


i choose you!

by saitanma



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anime Convention AU, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, closet weeb!hyungwon, cosplayer!minhyuk, hyungwon is me but exaggerated and rich, many anime references, minhyuk is the biggest weeb alive you will actually cringe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-02-18 00:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saitanma/pseuds/saitanma
Summary: Hyungwon wonders why he ever thought the anime convention was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, when there was an entirely beautiful boy with the most serene smile sitting right next to him—the orange light of the falling sun washing over his face almost perfectly, with his hair and his white collared shirt softly billowing in the wind. He looked calm and utterly beautiful, and Hyungwon had never been more in love.Oh god, he thinks sullenly,did I just fall in love with the weeb?(Or, Hyungwon is a closet weeb trying to keep up his mysterious popular guy image at school, and Minhyuk is his handsome cosplaying schoolmate who might just change that.)





	1. i have the power of god and anime on my side

**Author's Note:**

> hey, guess who's back with her second contribution to our humble tag! (hint: it's me) i'm sorry if i come off as too eager, but i really couldn't wait to write this, i was too excited
> 
> i have so much things in store for this, so i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! <3 also, you don't actually have to know the anime and games mentioned to understand the story, but i do recommend you check them all out!
> 
> happy reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/C9pRfLWXcAA661l.jpg)'s what i picture minhyuk's nishinoya ita bag to look like, and [here](https://data.whicdn.com/images/49134621/large.jpg)'s what the character he cosplays in this chapter looks like, in case you don't know who tomoe is!

If heaven was a place on earth, Hyungwon was _sure_ that this was it.

There he stood at the entrance, eyes shining as he took in the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld—even more _astonishing_ than the numerous beaches he has been to, even more _breathtaking_ than the view of the busy city from his room in his family’s penthouse. He clutches his backpack suddenly, his knees weak, as it took everything in him to stop himself from dropping to his knees and crying.

This place—or rather, this _event_ was none other than _Anime Expo_ , the biggest anime convention of the year.

Each of the four corners of the venue were bedecked with posters, all of which showcased promotional photos and characters from both old and new shows. The busy cacophony of passionate weebs milling around was the only noise to be heard, the soft sound of what he recognized was the thirteenth opening of _One Piece_ complementing it in the background.

On his left was the artist alley, where he predicts he would be spending enough money to drain his bank account entirely. On his right was the cosplay corner, filled with people ranging from aspiring amateurs with stockings stretched over their heads to serve as makeshift bald caps going as some Walmart version of _Saitama_ from _One Punch Man_ , to hardcore cosplayers clad from head to toe in armor that looked _way_ too real to have been DIY-ed. Hyungwon shivers in intimidation as someone cosplaying _Genji_ from _Overwatch_ passes by him, his right hand aimlessly twirling his katana—and, alright, how did such a hazardous object even get past _security_? These cosplayers never fail to amaze him.

Actually, this was the first time he had ever seen _actual_ cosplayers (since he’s only ever browsed almost meticulously through pages upon pages of photoshoots on Tumblr), seeing as this also happened to be his first time at an anime convention.

You see, Hyungwon is what one would call a _closet weeb_. While at school he would be his usual hot, mysterious, and rich popular guy persona, at home he spent his evenings locked in his bedroom, wrapped like a burrito in his blanket as he continued binge-watching _Naruto_. Nobody other than his immediate relatives, not even his best friend Hoseok, knew of his love for anime—and he wanted it to _stay_ that way.

In fact, he had to give up so much just to even _be_ here.

He had been planning on attending ever since the event was announced at the beginning of the year; he had started putting aside a portion of his daily allowance for all the figurine auctions he intended to join (which he already knew he was going to win, seeing as he had enough money to buy himself his own house _and_ a car), so he was _not_ , under any circumstances, going to let _anything_ stand in his way—or he might just tear them all down with his imaginary fire bending powers that had even _Prince Zuko_ quaking in his shoes. (Imaginary or not, it should be said that every quiz he had ever taken told him he was a fire bender, so he had the right to call himself so.)

An example of which happened just this morning during his lunch break. He and his two friends were sitting at the usual table when Kihyun proposed that they hang out after school.

“Guys, we should go to that new cat cafe nearby.” Kihyun had all but exclaimed, eyes sparkling. “I heard they’re handing out discount coupons to everyone going on the first week.”

“Sweet, I _love_ cats.” Hoseok had replied with equal excitement. He raised his hand. “I’m in.”

Hyungwon chewed his sandwich. “Alright. When?”

“Today, after school.”

He choked, coughing out a piece of lettuce. “Excuse me— _what_?”

“I _said_ , today. After school.” Kihyun repeated slowly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Sorry. Can’t.”

Hoseok spluttered, appalled. “Wonnie, my _dude_. Cats. Coffee. _Instagram-worthy boyfriend pics_. Why in the world would you turn down this opportunity?”

“Stop being so dramatic, we can literally go any other day.”

“The coupons, Hyungwon,” Hoseok had murmured, placing both his hands on Hyungwon’s shoulders and shaking him repeatedly, “think about the _coupons_.”

“Not that Mr. _Heir to the Chae business_ here would need them anyway,” Kihyun added, looking at him with suspicion clouding his eyes. Hyungwon gulped, nothing ever got past Yoo Kihyun. “So, what’s more important than cats and coffee?”

“I, uh,” his eyes shook as his two friends kept their piercing gazes on him, “family stuff...?”

Kihyun’s eyes narrowed into slits, the corners of his lips turned down just the slightest bit. Hyungwon has never felt more terrified in his entire life. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

_Fuck._

“Unless—“ the other continued, gasping in incredulity. He stood up abruptly, slamming his hands on the table before raising a finger to point at Hyungwon accusingly. “ _You_!”

“M-me?”

Oh god, oh god, oh _god_ , this was _it_. This was the end of his days as the hot, mysterious, and rich popular guy—from now on, he’ll be looking like a total fool going to school with his nonchalant facade and his earphones plugged in, because now everyone will know that he’s actually listening to the sixth _Naruto_ opening, not some indie music station on Spotify.

He breathed in sharply, ready to take the fall and kiss his career goodbye. _It was nice while it lasted_. “Yes, it’s true, I—“

“You’re going on a date!” Kihyun had accused, finger shaking. “And you didn’t tell us!”

Hoseok whined, punching Hyungwon’s shoulder lightly. “Not cool!”

Hyungwon’s eyes had widened almost comically. He couldn’t believe it. He was saved, even from exposing himself. He silently thanked any and every god listening. “Wow. Yes. _Totally_. How did you figure it out?”

“The only other time you acted like this was in freshman year when you turned us down to go to some mixer,” Kihyun snorted, a smug grin appearing on his face. A bead of sweat rolled down Hyungwon’s face at the memory, because even then he had lied about his reason for ditching them. A new _One Piece_ movie had come out on that same day, and he’d rather have choked than miss it. “Who’s the lucky dude?”

“Uh, I’d rather not say.” He said, pursing his lips.

“Come on, the least you could do is tell us who it is.” Hoseok pried.

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“No.”

“ _Yes_.”

“ _No_ —“

“Stop it!” Kihyun growled in annoyance, slapping both their balled fists away. “Hyungwon. Pictures or it didn’t happen.”

It was at this moment that Hyungwon had realized that he was utterly _fucked_. Where—and _how_ —the hell was he supposed to get a picture with his nonexistent date?

Even now, many hours later, as he stood at the entrance of the convention remembering the events that had transpired earlier, he felt the same stress and dread as when he had silently chewed on his rice after being posed with Kihyun’s request for pictures. He was fucked, to say the least, unless he found a random passerby or a normal-looking cosplayer willing to take one with him, but that would mean the sweet and sure death of his dignity.

He pushes the thought aside, pulling the gray hood of his jacket over his head. Better to think about it later. For now, he’ll enjoy the _heck_ out of this convention, screw everything else!

He walks around silently, eyes shining as he passes by different tables selling merchandise ranging from fanart to figurines. He is almost positive he looks suspicious, what with the gray hoodie and the ever-present sullen look in his eyes accentuated by his eye bags, but he quickly dismisses that thought, convincing himself that he probably looked like he was cosplaying _L Lawliet_ in a jacket or something.

His eyes stray from the stalls to the people who walked around, all happy and in their own element. That was what Hyungwon would probably look like if he were more open about being a weeb, but alas, he’d rather choke.

You see, at his school, it was either you were a closet weeb, or you were _Lee Minhyuk_.

He shudders even at the mere mention of that name. To simply call Lee Minhyuk a weeb was the _hugest_ understatement—the boy was an entire league _on his own_.

His very unironic love for anime was one of the many things people liked talking about—the pride and joy of the school’s meme collection. His white-haired schoolmate was usually seen walking around the halls proudly brandishing his large _ita bag_ , which was dedicated solely to _Nishinoya_ from _Haikyuu!!_ Hyungwon could practically _hear_ the shrill clinking of the keychains against each other, the painful sight of the libero with the orange jersey taking over his mind.

He remembers as if it were yesterday their junior high graduation—after their principal had finished giving the closing remarks, the teacher manning the computer displaying the powerpoint accidentally switched the view over to her screen, exposing the quite _explicit_ yaoi manga she had been reading as the ceremony had been going on. A wave of shocked silence washed over the room—however, Minhyuk begged to differ. The boy _completely_ lost his shit; he stood on his chair, waving his diploma almost crazily at the screen, and shrieked, “ _I know that manga!_ ”

On his left, Lee Jooheon, his best friend who also happened to sit next to him that time, had pinched his nose in secondhand embarrassment and pulled Minhyuk down by his collar. Hyungwon could not see much that day, seeing as he was seated almost far in the front, but he could _swear_ he saw the other Lee Minhyuk running a hand down his face, as if questioning why he unfortunately had to share the same name.

The teacher had been fired for obvious reasons, but Minhyuk had gone down in history as _that anime dude_.

 _This_ , Hyungwon thinks as he shivers in fright, _is_ exactly _why I‘d rather choke than be known as a weeb_.

He decides to distract himself from reality by moving onwards with the reason why he was here in the first place. He takes his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through the list he had prepared last night. The figurines included in it were arranged first by priority, then alphabetically. At number one was the _Ultra Rare Swimsuit Special Eli Ayase_ figurine, which he doubts he would even find in a convention as cramped as this—but it was fine, he could order it online any other day. The next on the list was the _Limited Edition Cloud Strife_ figurine he’d been eyeing for ages, where the blond protagonist stood next to his black motorbike as he brandished his iconic sword in his left hand. This was something Hyungwon thinks he saw earlier, so at least there was that.

He aimlessly continues on his path, focused on reading through his long list of things to watch out for, when he bumps into people lining up for an Anime Expo-exclusive shoujo booth, where you had the chance to fully immerse yourself in a romantic reality—it was complete with everything required in a shoujo, from light pink petals swiftly falling from the fake cherry blossom tree, to the melancholic soundtrack softly playing in the background. (Hyungwon had gagged as he read through this particular feature on the event’s website, but knew that he secretly wanted to experience it, being a shoujo supremacist himself—though he didn’t really have anyone to go with, and he’d just look like a complete loser if he were to line up by himself.)

“Hey, man, watch where you’re going.” The person he had bumped into warns, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t—“ Hyungwon begins, but trails off when his eyes catch on to something past the man’s shoulder. His eyes widen, and he lets out a shaky breath. “Oh—oh my _god_.”

There, standing on a pedestal for everyone to see, illuminated by the four tiny spotlights attached to the glass case in which it was being displayed, was the one figurine he did not expect he would find—the _number one priority_ of all his other _number one priorities_.

“Huh?” The man turns around in confusion. He whistles as his eyes catch on to what Hyungwon was referring to. “Ah! Yes, the _Ultra Rare Swimsuit Special Eli Ayase_. My best purchase today, if I must say so myself—look!” He takes a box out of the plastic bag he was carrying, and Hyungwon suddenly feels weak at the knees. “Her stand is specially designed like ocean waves, and—“

“—it _lights up!_ ” Hyungwon cries, fingers shaking. “I know!”

The other grins. “You should hurry, though. They only have one left in stock, and it’s that one displayed over there! You aren’t gonna be finding that anywhere else here.”

“It was made for me.” Hyungwon murmurs quietly, as if in a trance.

A laugh. “Go _get_ it.” He pats his back once, and that sparks a fire in Hyungwon to start on his six-meter journey towards the booth.

He was determined to own that figurine, even if it was the last thing he would do. His eyes narrow, and his left hand closes tightly around the pocket holding his wallet, ready to whip it out and hand the necessary bills over to the seller. Every step he took, every stride he made, had a _purpose_ —with flames in his eyes, he skillfully avoided stray cosplay props and people running about, set on one thing and one thing only. He wasn’t going to leave this convention empty-handed. He absolutely would _not_ allow it.

He felt as if angels were singing when he came to a stop in front of what was soon going to be the supreme ruler of his glass case, looking up in awe at the beautifully-crafted figurine, its stand shining brightly even under the rays of the tiny spotlights. He looks at the price written hastily on the masking tape, and scoffs as he realizes that he shouldn’t have even bothered. He can afford _fifty_ of these with the amount of cash he had on hand.

He pulls out his wallet, and opens his mouth to call on the seller, excitement threatening to show itself in his voice. He breathes in and points at the figurine, not noticing the second hand also pointing at it next to him. “That one, plea—“

He trails off when he hears that someone had said the _exact same_ thing he did, and was pointing at the _exact same_ figurine.

 _No_ , Hyungwon thinks angrily. _Absolutely not. Not in this lifetime, bitch!_

He tears his gaze away from the stand, eyes fixed in a cold glare at this _guy_ who had the audacity to want to purchase something that was clearly placed on that pedestal for _him_ —

—but is ultimately shocked when his eyes land on the one person he never wanted to be seen with. The one guy he never wanted to _be_.

Standing right next to him, not even three feet away, was the boy with the most unironic love for anime, Lee Minhyuk, dressed from head to toe in a very accurate cosplay of _Tomoe_ from _Kamisama Hajimemashita_.

Hyungwon gulps. He tries to open his mouth, maybe to say, “ _it’s not what it looks like!_ ” or “ _i’m not who you think I am!_ ”—he’ll never know, as the only thing that leaves him is a weak and shaky exhale, because man, was Minhyuk _gorgeous_.

The boy looked positively _ethereal_ —clipped to his hair were two fox ears, which he had to give the guy props for, because they looked very _genuine_. He had violet contacts on, which Hyungwon would have been entranced by if he weren’t fearing for his life, and attached to his canines were two fake fangs, which he saw only because the other’s jaw was dropped in shock.

 _God, he is handsome_ , Hyungwon thinks. He quickly wipes that out of his head, inwardly cringing at the fact that he really just thought that, and replaces it with something more appropriate for the situation: _Oh God, he knows I like anime_.

Many things go through his head all at the same moment, it was a whole whirlwind of emotions and realizations. He thinks briefly about the fact that Lee Minhyuk just saw him at an anime convention, then he thinks about Lee Minhyuk seeing him pointing at a figurine, and _then_ he thinks about _Lee Minhyuk seeing him at an anime convention pointing at a figurine_.

Several sirens start blaring in his head. _OH GOD, HE KNOWS I LIKE ANIME._

Hyungwon’s eyes widen, and his hands close around the strings of his hoodie, ready to pull and hide his face. “ _Fuck_ —“

The smile on Minhyuk’s face grows when he recognizes just who he saw standing next to him. He jumps excitedly, and points at Hyungwon in a fashion way too dramatic for his tastes.

“Don’t.” Hyungwon pleads miserably.

Minhyuk takes a deep breath—and this is the moment when Hyungwon realizes he had ignored his plea, because when he opens his mouth again, he screams, “ _HYUNGWOOOOOOOON!_ ”

 

There were only three words in the dictionary that were able to perfectly describe and summarize everything Hyungwon was currently feeling.

_Fuck. My. Life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the whole junior high graduation debacle is based on real events, it actually happened in real life, i wish i was kidding


	2. believe it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who left kudos and comments on the previous chapter, as well as those who subscribed and bookmarked—i appreciate them so much; this mega-sized update is an apology for the lateness and a big thank you gift to all those mentioned! (6k words, my dudes!)
> 
> happy reading! c:

Screaming was not entirely uncommon in public events such as anime conventions—but that fact did not, in any way, reassure Hyungwon.

He felt like he had been stripped naked and dropped in the middle of Disneyland on a holiday—there was no other moment in his life where he felt more _mortified_. His ears still rung from the shrillness of Minhyuk’s scream; all the syllables of his name still remained in the air, morphing into something almost tangible that he _swears_ he can see the entire thing written out, as if mocking him.

 _If Kihyun were here, he’d call me dramatic._ He thinks, laughing darkly. _Maybe Hoseok would cry for me. He’s totally the type._

He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say, because what other believable excuse could he possibly come up with in this situation?

 _Actually, I am_ not _the Hyungwon you think I am—I’m his twin who has been living in the shadows, where I used to spend time awaiting the day I could finally leave the solitary confines of my room in our penthouse, which just so happens to be today._

What comes out is a very eloquent: “Uh.”

This seems to snap Minhyuk out of his high, because a smug grin appears on his face. Hyungwon tries (but fails) to make his eyes stray away from the fake fangs that jutted out from where his canines should have been.

“No offense, but I did _not_ expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t expect to see _you_ here either.” He blurts out, then winces. _Fucking_ great _, Hyungwon. You just told the school’s resident anime dude that you didn’t expect to see him at a fucking_ anime convention _._

If he catches on to Hyungwon’s stupidity, he does not show it. He snorts. “I’ve been going for years now.”

“Oh. Of course.”

They lapse into an almost awkward silence, and Hyungwon is _really_ about to phone an uber for a ride straight down a never-ending abyss.

He clears his throat. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I ha—“

“I’m Minhyuk.” The other says cheerily, sticking his hand out as if Hyungwon hadn’t just opened his mouth and _said_ something.

Hyungwon trails off and eyes his hand, noticing that long nails were attached to every finger. He subconsciously scratches his own before shaking Minhyuk’s, and scrunches his nose distastefully when the other’s fingers dig into his wrist. “Believe me, I know.”

And he did. The boy was not exactly unknown, and he wasn’t exactly the most quiet person either. He _definitely_ wasn’t even the shyest.

He remembers all of a sudden a story Kihyun had once told him, of the first day of school last year. He and Minhyuk had shared a class, and they were all required to introduce themselves by saying their name followed by an interesting fact about them.

Naturally, one would expect to hear things like “ _I can move my ears_ ” or “ _my family owns two cows_ ”—they were quite unique, and they were _very_ much interesting. In Minhyuk’s defense, _nobody_ expected the interesting fact he would choose to share with the class, even if it was the most obvious goddamn thing in the entire world.

“Next,” their teacher had said, scanning her seat plan, “Lee Minhyuk.”

The boy stood up with much more fervor than needed, his chair emitting an ear-grating squeak as it slid backwards. He smiled widely, bowing his head. “Hey, everyone! I’m Minhyuk.”

An unexcited and drawling chorus of “ _hi, Minhyuk_ ” had resounded, with a few trailing in the background.

He breathed in deeply, as if preparing himself for the next few words. “And I...”

“Oh, shit.” On the other side of the room, Lim Changkyun had dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “He’s gonna do it.”

“And I...”

Minhyuk’s then seatmate, Hyunwoo, turned to face the former and begged, “ _Please_ don’t do it.”

The boy only looked at him, grin widening. “And I...”

(Changkyun groaned again.)

“Love...”

(Hyunwoo shook his head in defeat.)

“ _Anime..._ ”

Silence.

The last three words Minhyuk had said hung in the air as a wave of silence washed over the class of thirty. The soft tweeting of the birds outside the window could almost pass off as crickets if you imagined hard enough. Nobody knew the proper way to react, much less _how_ to react—because of course they’d known about Minhyuk and his tendencies beforehand, but this was something they did not expect they would hear. It was, however, something they _should_ have.

Hyunwoo rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Oh my god.”

Their teacher had tried to smile reassuringly, clearly also shocked. Kihyun had said she resembled what Hoseok looked like whenever he tried to convince everyone who asked that he definitely did _not_ cry after watching a Ghibli movie. “That’s—that’s _great_ , honey. So, like, Spongebob?”

Another few seconds of silence passed. Minhyuk frowned in confusion. “Uh, no...?”

Their teacher blinked, then coughed. “Oh. Um. Alright. P-please take your seat.”

And so he did—happily at that, as if he had not just doomed himself to the inevitable renewal of his _anime dude_ card.

Hyungwon wasn’t even there to witness it happening, but even just the mere act of _knowing_ about it was painful. He felt goosebumps form on his skin every time he remembered the story, complete with Kihyun’s exaggerated gestures and the different voices he gave for each person involved.

_God. How could a person like this even exist?_

He is brought back to reality by the fact that Minhyuk’s hand was still in his. They weren’t even shaking hands anymore, it just hung there in the middle, making them look like they were holding hands in the middle of the convention just for the sake of it. Hyungwon pulls his hand away abruptly, choosing to ignore the very present tingling in his fingers.

Minhyuk simply looks at him curiously, and Hyungwon finds it incredibly hard to look away. ( _It’s the violet contacts_ , he convinces himself, _nothing else!_ ) Before he could even breathe, the pensive look is gone in a flash, and the other is back to his bright self.

“It was nice meeting you here,” he says, rubbing his neck, “but I have to go buy my figurine now, if you don’t mind.”

“Wait.” The sound of imaginary cars skidding to a halt is all Hyungwon hears. Was he going  _deaf_ or did Minhyuk just— “What do you mean, _your figurine_?”

The other laughs, as if Hyungwon claiming what was clearly _his_ was a joking matter. He starts seeing fire. “I mean, _my_ figurine.” He emphasizes.

“The _Ultra Rare Swimsuit Special Eli Ayase_? _Yours_?”

“No. I meant the glass case.” Minhyuk deadpans. “Yes, the _Ultra Rare Swimsuit Special Eli Ayase_.”

“ _You_ take that back.” Hyungwon gasps, scandalized. “I saw her first!”

Minhyuk sticks his tongue out. “Well, I _got_ here first.”

“Actually, I’m sure _I_ got here first.”

“Oh, really now?”

“Yes! What makes you say _you_ got here first? Where’s your proof?”

“The fact that I’m standing closer to the person selling the figurine.”

Unbelievable.

“Source?”

“ _Myself_.”

Hyungwon growls, frustrated. “That’s my figurine. Mine.”

A chortle attempts to push itself past Minhyuk’s lips before a cocky grin takes place, fake fangs on full display.

“Hyungwon, Hyungwon, Hyungwon. Let’s take a look at your statement now, shall we?” Minhyuk says gently. “If I’m not mistaken, you said the word ‘ _mine_ ’, right?”

Hyungwon furrows his eyebrows. _What the fuck?_ “Yes...?”

“Alright, see, ‘ _mine_ ’ begins with the letter ‘M’—“

“Oh, Christ.”

“—and _Minhyuk_ also begins with the letter ‘M’, so...”

“‘ _Care, I don’t_ ’ begins with the letter ‘C’. So does _Chae_. Now, move aside.”

Before he has the chance to move past Minhyuk to get to the seller, the other stomps his slippered foot firmly on the ground and crosses his arms. If it weren’t for the fact that he looked like a puppy (with his fox ears and his fangs and all), Hyungwon might have been terrified.

“Give us commoners a chance, Hyungwon.” Minhyuk whines, pouting. “You’re the heir to a business, you can buy these online any other day. I barely have enough money to pay for shipping!”

He was right. But if Hyungwon was anything, he was stubborn. He sighs. “This is the _last time_ I will be saying this. That figurine is _mine_.” He points to the glass case, just to make sure his message really gets across.

A cough sounds from behind the table. “Sorry sir, I was only able to get to you now,” the stall’s owner interrupts, “but which figurine are you pointing at?”

“Huh? What other figurine could I possibly be—“ He trails off once he takes a full look at the glass case.

The _empty_ glass case.

What the fuck.

The owner leans over the table to peer up at what Hyungwon was pointing at. “Ah, the _Eli Ayase_? I actually just sold it a few minutes ago.”

 _What_ the _fuck_.

“Sorry, maybe next time?”

He couldn’t hear anything over the quick rush of blood in his ears. He was so caught up in the whole Minhyuk situation, from the embarrassing screaming to the petty argument over a fucking _plastic object_ , that he wasn’t able to notice when someone stood near him, pointed at the figurine, and _payed for it_.

“Empty.” Hyungwon mutters, voice devoid of emotion. He slowly runs a hand down his face in utter despair. “It’s. _Empty_.”

He looks at Minhyuk, slowly and shakily raising a finger to point at him. “You...”

The motherfucker has the audacity to guffaw in utter glee. “Whoops. I guess neither of us will be bringing it home today.”

And just like that, Hyungwon snaps. He places both his hands on Minhyuk’s shoulders, gripping tightly. His eyes widen, and this time he’s too blinded by his own rage to be entranced by the brightness of his contacts. He looks the other straight in the eye, and says in a hollow voice, “ _Look at what you have done._ ”

Minhyuk looks straight back, blinking a couple of times. “Are you okay?“

“Am I?” Hyungwon asks flatly. “Someone just bought my fucking figurine.”

“Yeah—“

“ _My_ figurine.”

“ _Your_ figurine? Not anymore.”

Hyungwon feels the sudden urge to scream like a rabid baboon.

Minhyuk snorts, sounding like he was trying to keep a laugh in. Hyungwon is horrified as the other begins to rub his arm soothingly. “Let it go, Hyungwon. There’s always a next time.”

“You’re quite optimistic,” he sneers, “might I remind you just _who_ was also fighting for it?”

Minhyuk goes quiet, an unreadable expression on his face. Hyungwon thinks he’s won the argument, until the other throws his head back and erupts in fits of laughter.

“The—“ Hyungwon splutters, both shocked and disgusted. “Why are you _laughing_?”

“W-we were,” Minhyuk begins, clutching at his stomach in an attempt to stop laughing, “we were really fighting over—over a _figurine_. Fuck.”

“This is hardly anything to laugh about!”

“The situation, Hyungwon!” He cries, now unable to control his laughter, “Look at it! W-we sound so—so _ridiculous_.”

He slaps the table next to him, holding on to the cloth draped over it for dear life. The stall’s owner starts laughing too, out of confusion. Hyungwon doesn’t understand.

Minhyuk punches his shoulder lightly, giggling. “You should see the look on your face. You look so _lost_.”

“That’s because I am.”

He doesn't know how to react—just a second ago, he was filled with raw anger and disbelief; now, it was as if that fire had burned out without even a sign of it having been there in the first place. 

 _It's Minhyuk's weeb juice messing with my brain_ , he reasons with himself.

The other exhales, successfully avoiding the urge to laugh again. “Come on. I’ll take you around.” He reaches for Hyungwon’s forearm and makes a motion of dragging him away from the stall.

“What, _why_?”

“To make up for the figurine,” he replies matter-of-factly, “also, I wanted to talk to you about stuff.”

He starts struggling in Minhyuk’s grip. “Uh, actually, I think I have to go now. My uber is here.”

“ _Please_ ,” Minhyuk says, “I’m not stupid. You haven’t even _been_ here for thirty minutes.”

“How would you know?”

“You look like it.”

“I mean school is, like, an _hour_ away from here,” Hyungwon defends distractedly, trying to pry the other’s fingers off his arm, which was beginning to prove impossible because of the fake fingernails, “how the fuck did _you_ get here earlier?”

“Questions later.” Minhyuk orders. “Walk with me.”

He fails to take Minhyuk’s hand off his arm so he slumps in defeat and lets the other take him away to god-knows-where, shooting a look at the stall’s owner that he thinks conveyed his message: “ _Help me_.”

She merely smiles at the both of them—quite _fondly_ , at that—and waves them off. Just like that. Like Hyungwon hadn’t just been deprived of his figurine.

This is exactly why Hyungwon was steadily losing faith in humanity by the second.

 

“So. Anime, huh?” Minhyuk says, winking knowingly.

They were in the small food court lining up in front of a stall selling _Sailor Moon_ -themed ice cream, something that Minhyuk insisted he _must_ get or he’ll _die_. Hyungwon was not particularly fond of the dairy treat, but Minhyuk had a vice-like grip on his forearm while they were walking earlier, so it wasn’t like he could do anything about it.

“What the fuck is an anime?” He replies with faux nonchalance. “Is that some sort of exotic spice?”

Minhyuk looks at him pointedly. “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

“It’s a genuine question!”

“And you aren’t fooling _anybody_.”

Hyungwon stubbornly stays silent. Minhyuk huffs. It isn’t long before his expression shifts into a sly one, and when he opens his mouth next, he whispers, “Naruto is a stupid anime.”

Now _this_ is where Hyungwon draws the line. He gapes at the other like a fish, breaking his air of feigned ignorance. “You uncultured _swine_ ,” he spits angrily, “Naruto is _not_ a stupid anime! In fact, it is one of the most amazing shows of our generation, but you wouldn’t know that because your mind is too small to realize that it’s _more_ than just him trying to become the hokage, it’s—“

“Yes.”

“—about Naruto learning how to _overcome struggles_ with the help of the various people he meets, whilst simultaneously—“

“Mhm.”

“— _making friends_ who will prove to be highly significant in his life later on. It’s about his inner conflict, his inner _beast_ —“

“Go on.”

“—and how he will fight it to ultimately reach his dreams. Naruto is, objectively, one of the _best_ shows ever created, and it pains me to know that there are people out there—plebeians like _you_ —who think Naruto is a fucking stupid anime because of its stupid filler episodes when in actuality it has a very good balance between action-packed and emotional episodes—“

“Elaborate.”

“—like when Naruto finally meets his mother, Kushina, while learning how to control his inner tailed beast at the Tailed Beast Temple, where he, as a good son, becomes more driven towards becoming the hokage because his mother had once wanted to be the first female hokage when she was still alive!”

Hyungwon breathes heavily, his passionate rant about one of his greatest loves having drained him. Minhyuk is smiling knowingly at him, and that is all he needs to see to know that he has lost.

“Tell me, Hyungwon,” Minhyuk begins gently, “at what episode does Naruto meet his mother like you said?”

His eyes start shaking. “I’m not—how should _I_ kn—“

“What episode, Hyungwon.”

He sulks, defeated. “Episode 246.”

Minhyuk smirks, and it takes everything in Hyungwon to not want to punch it right off. With his own lips, preferably.

Wait, what.

“See what I mean. Don’t even try lying about you not liking anime when you so obviously wasted your time watching more than two hundred episodes of Naruto.” The other says smugly, unknowingly distracting Hyungwon from his unwelcome thoughts. “My anime-dar is never wrong.”

“Anime-dar?”

“Anime radar. Duh.”

 _What even the fuck?_ Hyungwon sighs. “Listen, Minhyuk, I have... a favor to ask of you.”

“Hm? What is it?”

“Here’s the thing. Nobody other than you knows of my, well, _obsession_ —”

“Oh, really? Wowie, I feel special!” Minhyuk exclaims, eyes sparkling.

He winces. “Yeah, so I’m gonna have to ask you to not, you know, _spread it at school_ or anything.” He chuckles nervously. “Okay _please_ don’t, for the love of god, I swear if I find out my secret was leaked, I _will_ know it’s you, and I won’t—“

”You have nothing to worry about.” Minhyuk assures, interrupting him. “You can trust me with any secret!” He makes a show of zipping his lips and locking it, throwing the key away at the end. Hyungwon doesn’t know whether to cringe or laugh.

He is aware that he should be more cautious, especially since this was _Minhyuk_ , who was notorious for having the tendency to babble endlessly, but he feels oddly reassured even despite knowing that about him, and something in him knows that he can trust the other with this secret.

It feels like an eternity before they’re finally the second in line, but before Hyungwon could even scan the flavors written in bubble print on the sickeningly pink menu board taped to the side, Minhyuk’s hand quickly slides from his forearm to his hand.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” Hyungwon exhales in shock, his heart skipping a beat and thumping notably faster than what was normal. Why was he so affected? Wasn’t Minhyuk really known for being touchy-feely with people?

“There’s a couple discount for the Tuxedo Mask and Sailor Moon special,” Minhyuk whispers aggressively, “so you’re my boyfriend, okay?”

The word _boyfriend_ imprints itself in Hyungwon’s unwilling mind, and stays there no matter how hard he tries to push it out and away. His hand tingles in Minhyuk’s, and he knows he’s 100% fucked. “I deserve to have a say in this!”

But before he _could_ have a say in the situation, the person before them moves aside, having received their order. Hyungwon starts sweating profusely.

“Hello, what can I get you?” The vendor asks boredly, not even sparing a second glance at their joined hands.

“The Tuxedo Mask and Sailor Moon special, please. With the couple discount.” Minhyuk chirps.

The vendor raises an eyebrow skeptically. “You’re a couple?”

“Yes, we are! Right, Hyungwonnie?” He sidles up to Hyungwon and rests his head on his shoulder, innocently batting his eyelashes at him.

Hyungwon scrunches his nose, his mind torn between saying otherwise and screaming at the fact that Minhyuk just called him _Hyungwonnie_ , but is shaken from his thoughts when Minhyuk’s grip on his hand graduates from vice-like to _death-like_.

“ _Ow_ —Of _course_ , sweetheart.” He exclaims, a bit too enthusiastically.

The vendor narrows his eyes, it was obvious he wasn’t buying into it.

Minhyuk’s smile breaks for a millisecond, having been cornered, and that spurs Hyungwon on to do the first thing that comes to mind. They've come this far, might as well push it to the limit.

He lets go of Minhyuk’s hand and steps behind him, then he wraps his lanky arms around his waist, leaning over to rest his chin on the other’s left shoulder. He feels Minhyuk shake through the long silk kimono, and his own hands become clammy, but he does not let this break his resolve.

“Should I go ahead and kiss him too? Will that work for you?” Hyungwon asks coolly.

 _You wanted the fucking discount_ , he thinks spitefully at the other, over the racing of his heart, _you’re going to_ get _the fucking discount_.

He becomes dizzy when Minhyuk turns his head to beam at him, stupid fake fangs on display—he knew it was all a joke for the discount but it looked so genuine, he almost fools himself into thinking otherwise.

The vendor makes a face. “ _Oh my god_. Dude, no PDA. Alright, have your discount, just... not in front of the ice cream, please.”

He lets go of Minhyuk, satisfied.

Minhyuk is still smiling at him when he whispers, “Thanks.”

“Shut up.” Hyungwon mutters, cheeks flushing.

The realization hits him like a punch to his face when he watches the vendor prepare the ice cream. He did not have to play along and keep up the whole fake boyfriend shtick; he didn’t _even_ need the stupid fucking discount, he was rich enough to buy the special at full price! (A smaller part of his mind pointed out that Minhyuk most likely also knew that they didn’t need the discount, so his reasons for wanting it were unknown, but Hyungwon doesn’t think about it too much.)

He has never wanted to set himself on fire more than in this moment.

He avoids any eye contact with Minhyuk until they receive their ice cream. It doesn’t surprise him when the other chooses the _Sailor Moon_ one; its cone was obnoxiously pink, the cotton candy-flavored ice cream even more so, and in the middle of the edible glitter sprinkled on top was a piece of sugar heart candy imitating the color of the jewels in Sailor Moon’s hair.

It looked _disgusting_ , too sweet for Hyungwon’s refined tastes.

His was more sleek and elegant, perfectly capturing the look of Tuxedo Mask. The cone was black, the ice cream was dark chocolate-flavored (much to his delight), and sprinkled on top were white chocolate swirls.

He chuckles inwardly when he thinks about how their choices reflected him and Minhyuk in reality. Excepting how they were not, in fact, a couple like Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask.

They leave the stall and begin walking in silence. Hyungwon is honestly just glad Minhyuk isn’t bringing up the whole hugging thing, because he really wouldn’t hesitate to set himself on fire for real.

“This better be worth it.” Hyungwon mutters, eyeing the ice cream.

Minhyuk chuckles. “I hope so too. I mean, many people have said this stuff is good.”

He takes a bite out of his ice cream, and is about to comment on his disappointment and the mediocrity of the dark chocolate flavor until he sees Minhyuk’s excited face. Hyungwon falters, seeing how his eyes seemed to shine as he waited for his judgment.

“It’s...” Hyungwon gulps. “It’s _good_.”

Minhyuk perks up at the comment. “Well, at least our acting wasn’t a waste, then!” He licks at his ice cream happily, and Hyungwon has to stop himself from gagging just looking at the monstrosity that was the _Sailor Moon_ -themed ice cream.

A small sludge of his cotton candy-flavored ice cream falls to the ground almost pathetically. He scrunches his nose. “Whoops.”

Hyungwon blinks. “Kihyun would _freak_ if he saw that.”

Huh.

 _Kihyun_.

Something about that name made him feel like he was forgetting something very important.

 _Oh_ — “Fuck, the picture!” He exclaims, fishing for his phone with his free hand.

“Picture? What picture?

He turns to Minhyuk. “Uh, this might sound weird, but I need to take a selfie with you.”

“For what?” Minhyuk asks, glancing at his phone. A look of realization appears on his face, and he starts waggling his eyebrows. “Oh, _oh_ , you want something to remember our fake date by?“

Hyungwon hopes the sudden heat he felt in his cheeks wasn’t obvious. “Uh, not exactly—“

“Wanna show off your new boyfriend?”

“What, _no_ —“

“Is it my cosplay? Am I that handsome?”

“No—I mean, _yeah_ —wait, no, I mean,” Hyungwon makes a frustrated noise. “For fuck’s sake, just take the damn selfie with me!”

Hyungwon would have been patient, but he was _desperate_. Desperate enough that he was asking Lee Minhyuk, a boy who did not fall under the random passerby or normal-looking cosplayer categories, to take the selfie with him. He was just going to have to manipulate it in such a way that his face and his fox ears wouldn’t be seen.

Minhyuk laughs. “You’re cute when you’re mad. Alright, you big baby, I’ll take the selfie with you. _Sheesh_.”

“Good, _thank_ you.” He grumbles, holding his phone up. “Can you, uh, turn your face away from the camera?”

“Isn’t that just defeating the purpose of a selfie?”

“Ugh, I’ll explain. Soon. Oh, hold your ice cream a bit higher too so it’s captured in the frame.”

With much patience and Hyungwon’s orders, they are able to successfully take the selfie. It turned out quite well, if he must say so himself; Minhyuk’s head was turned in such a way that it didn’t look unnatural and was as if he was gazing into the distance, Hyungwon looked dead like usual, but the ice cream he held up to his lips made the whole thing look a bit softer.

“Aw, we look cute.” Minhyuk coos, zooming in on various areas of the photo. (He lingers on his own face a couple of times.)

An odd feeling develops in his chest, so he stops looking at the picture and pockets his phone.

“My friend Kihyun asked for pics with my, uh, my companion.” He explains.

“Oh, I see.” The other says. “Weren’t you alone, though? What if you weren’t able to find anyone?”

“Well then in that case, I guess I’m glad you’re with me.”

He doesn’t know why Minhyuk suddenly looks away, but when he turns back to face forward, his face is schooled into an expression almost too nonchalant, it seemed fake. He notes that the tips of the other’s ears were red.

“Shall we go find your other figurine?” He asks, uncharacteristically calm and collected.

Hyungwon furrows his eyebrows. “Okay...”

They walk aimlessly as they eat their ice cream, keeping an eye out for the _Limited Edition Cloud Strife_ Hyungwon was trying to hunt down. Occasionally, Minhyuk would point out various things that interested him, and Hyungwon would give one-worded answers. The other didn’t seem to mind—in fact, it only seemed to make him _happier_ , as if Hyungwon even answering at all was already good enough for him.

Eventually, Hyungwon eases into full conversations with Minhyuk. They even have a few heated arguments over trivial things like whether the original _Fullmetal Alchemist_ or _Brotherhood_ was better. (Minhyuk, being the common and generic anime dude, defends Brotherhood, but Hyungwon and his refined, wannabe-hipster taste take the original’s side.) He surprises even himself when the other’s hilariously stupid arguments get him to laugh—Minhyuk’s eyes shine when he does, and he’d be lying to himself if that didn’t make him feel _something_.

Slowly, he begins to care less and less about the figurine he had not been able to buy earlier in the day—actually, he didn’t even bother searching for the others in his list. What mattered to him in that moment was the thought that anime conventions were much more fun with someone by your side, and that he was almost, sort of, kind of glad that it was Minhyuk, even though he still felt the urge to punch him half the time.

“ _Oh_ , before I forget.” Minhyuk exclaims suddenly, beginning to dig through one of the pockets of his kimono. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” He asks, incredulous. “For me?”

“Yes, for you. Is there anyone else I could have been talking to?” Minhyuk chuckles. He seems to have found what he was looking for, because he takes it out of his pocket quickly and hides his hand behind his back. “Close your eyes.”

Hyungwon scrunches his nose. “If this is a joke, I swear to god.” He mutters under his breath. He does what he’s told anyway.

“Okay, now stick your hand out.”

He sighs, then hesitantly sticks his hand out. Not too long after, he feels Minhyuk place a piece of paper on top.

“Alright! You can open your eyes now.” Minhyuk all but exclaims, clapping his hands excitedly.

He examines the piece of paper—turning it over, flipping it, putting it against the light. Was he reading it right or—

“A... discount card?” He asks slowly, frowning in confusion.

“Yeah, for figurines! You can use it for your Cloud Strife when you see it.” Minhyuk explains enthusiastically. “They give these out to registered cosplayers every year, but I think I’d rather _you_ have it.”

He almost tells Minhyuk he didn’t need discounts, seeing as he brought enough money to buy out half the convention, but decides against it. “Why?”

“You’re more passionate about collecting this stuff,” the other answers, then his cheeks slowly turn a light shade of pink, and his eyes focus intently on the ground as if it held the secrets to the universe, “and, I wanted to thank you somehow.”

That shocks Hyungwon. He looks up. “Thank me? What did I do?”

“For one, you accompanied me today, despite the fact that I’m, uh—I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, you’ve heard about me, haven’t you?”

He has the gut feeling the other was referring to his eternal status as _that anime dude_. “Well, yeah.”

“People aren’t able to tolerate me often.” Minhyuk explains casually, as if he didn’t just talk about the fact that not many people liked him. Hyungwon almost sees red. “So I just... really appreciate you being here. With me.”

He smiles at Hyungwon, with all the radiance of the sun at high noon, and his heart falters. He felt like a complete hypocrite, being told he was admirable for that fact, when he was going to be acting as if he were one of the very people who didn’t tolerate Minhyuk.

He wants to tell him how he literally just got to know him today, but already thought so highly of him. He wants to apologize for the fact that his first impression of him was a snooty closet weeb who was adamant about claiming a stupid plastic object, for having to ask him to keep the whole thing a secret because it was something he was so _ashamed_ about.

“Thank you,” he says instead, pocketing the discount card, “I’ll make sure to use it.”

Minhyuk’s hand closes around his for a moment, and squeezes. “I’m glad.”

For now, he selfishly allows himself to bask in the goodness of what Minhyuk had said about him, even if it was just for a little while.

 

 

The next day finds Hyungwon in extremely good spirits—he smiles despite the fact that his heater broke, leaving him with no choice but to bathe in ice cold water; he greets the bellboy of his apartment complex with much enthusiasm, shocking the former because he has _never_ , in his many years of living in the penthouse, so much as spared a glance at him; he actually holds a conversation with his uber driver, even if it was about the most stupid thing, like what his driver’s cat ate for breakfast.

It was very unlike him, and Kihyun and Hoseok are not the first to notice. They definitely aren’t the last either.

Hyungwon was eating a sandwich at their usual lunch table, an open book held in his other hand, which was really nothing out of the ordinary.

Except this time there was a new addition to this routine—he was texting Minhyuk.

 

 _ **anime dude**_  
so.............thoughts on haikyuu???? :” >

this is v important 2 our friendship so if u answer wrongly i’ll be forced 2 delete ur contact i’ll block u from my LIFE

take it srsly

 

He snorts. He knew the other wasn’t serious, so he shamelessly sends his honest opinion on the show.

 

 _ **Hyungwon**_  
Overrated. Overhyped. Never saw why everyone liked it so much; must be the handsome, sweaty characters. I’d rate it a solid 5.5/10 on My Anime List.

 

 _ **anime dude**_  
u did not just say what i think u just said..... my eyes must be deceiving me

u DIDN’T

BLOCKED REPORTED UNFOLLOWED!!!!!!! >:(

ok wtf it isn’t just abt the hot boys!!!!!! it’s about making strong bonds & the importance of TEAMWORK it’s a beautiful anime fuk u

 

 _ **Hyungwon**_  
Sure.

 

 _ **anime dude**_  
.........IS THAT ALL U HAVE TO SAY U DICK I H8 U NEVER TALK 2 ME AGAIN

and u sure are gutsy abt not liking friendship themes......... coming from a NARUTO fan fuk u and everything u stand for

 

When he looks up from his phone, Kihyun and Hoseok are looking at him as if he had just sprouted two heads.

“What?” He splutters.

Kihyun is the first to speak, eyes narrowing. “The tip of your book is submerged in mayo.” He says calmly, though his tone seemed to have menace faintly laced in it.

“Huh?” He checks the book he had abandoned, and sure enough, it _was_ dipped in mayo. “Oh.”

Hoseok gasps. “He didn’t freak out?”

“Who are you and what did you do with Chae Hyungwon?” Kihyun accuses.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I _am_ Hyungwon.”

“ _Our_ Hyungwon would never smile as openly as this.” Kihyun points out.

“What? Am I not allowed to be happy?” He retorts, frowning. “I actually hate you.”

“So I take it the date went well?” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows.

Hyungwon has to fight his hardest to keep the smile off his face. “Uh. I guess.”

Hoseok squeals. “I’m so happy for you!” He exclaims, slapping his shoulder repeatedly.

“Thanks.”

“ _Ugh_. My baby bro... finally expanding his horizons and meeting people...” He wipes away a legitimate tear from the corner of his eye. “It all happened too _fast_.”

“Hey, I may be younger but you have to remember I’m still _taller_ by—“

A tut-tut of disapproval sounds from beside them, silencing their bickering.

“You’re both forgetting something.” Kihyun sing-songs.

“Oh, right.” He understands immediately, hastily switching on the _do not disturb_ function to avoid notifications from Minhyuk before opening his photo library. “I didn’t forget, don’t worry.”

Kihyun sticks a hand out, wiggling his fingers. “Let’s see ‘em, then.”

He pulls up the photo and places his phone on Kihyun’s waiting hand. His two friends immediately crowd over the phone like crows hovering over a weak bird, examining the photo very closely, as if they couldn’t believe that Hyungwon went on an actual date. (He technically didn’t, but it still hurt him to see that they weren’t all that confident in his charms.)

“It isn’t edited.” He grumbles, irritated. “I can’t even use photoshop for shit. Stop trying.”

“Mmm... this is still so hard to believe.” Kihyun mutters. “Our Hyungwon? On a date? What universe are we suddenly living in?”

“ _Hey_ —Fuck you, too!”

“You’re into old men?” Hoseok asks disbelievingly, zooming in on the white hair. He scrunches his nose distastefully. “No offense.”

Hyungwon splutters, disgusted. ”I’m _not_ into old men!”

“Yeah, he isn’t.” Kihyun confirms, looking at the sliver of a face seen in the picture. “Look closely, dumbass. He doesn’t have any wrinkles. It’s _obviously_ dyed.”

“Oh, like that guy, Minhyuk!” Hoseok exclaims. Hyungwon’s heart betrays him and leaps at the mention of the name.

“I guess.” Kihyun says distractedly, as something in the corner of the photo catches his eye. He zooms in for a closer look. “Wait a minute...”

Hoseok narrows his eyes. “Is that—Are those...”

“What? What are you looking at?” Hyungwon pries, trying to grab his phone back. Kihyun only dodges his attempts.

Then as if on cue, both of them look up at him simultaneously, horror-stricken. Their eyes are wide, their jaws had dropped open, and they seemed to be lost for words.

“Why are you guys looking at me like that?” Hyungwon asks slowly, hands slowly rising to show that he was no threat. “Cut it out.”

“Hyungwon... sweetie...” Kihyun begins gently, a hand moving to caress his arm.

“What the— _please_ don’t ever call me that again.”

“Wonnie... we—we didn’t _know_...” Hoseok whispers, covering his mouth in shock.

“It’s alright, Hoseok.” Kihyun assures, rubbing his shoulders. “We still accept him, right?”

“Yeah, we do.” The other replies, voice cracking. “Oh god, we _love_ you, dude. So much. We’ll support you no matter what. Through thick and thin. Struggle after struggle. We will be there to guide you through it. I promise you.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Hyungwon growls. “Why are you suddenly talking like a parent in a Disney teen movie? What the hell?”

“Since when...”

“Since when, _what_?”

Kihyun turns the phone to face him, a ghostly look on his face. “Since when... are you into _furries_?”

The picture was zoomed in to a far corner, where if you looked closely enough, you could see a part of a fox ear attached to the white hair.

It seemed that Hyungwon had forgotten to crop it out.

His life was in shambles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first day introduction thing is also based on actual events; once again, i wish i was kidding


	3. is this a pigeon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [sheepishly slides 9k words across the table] greetings... it's been ten years... this fic is still a thing...
> 
> i apologize deeply for not updating sooner! i was focusing on schoolwork and couldn't afford to set aside time to work on this, i hope you can forgive me! :"(
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who left kudos and comments in the previous chapters, you all are the cup of coffee that keeps me going! <3 (fun fact: this chapter and the next were supposed to be one big word vomit, but i decided to cut it down as it ended up being more than 15k words long!)
> 
> as usual, [here](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/atelierseries/images/5/54/A15_Logix.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130401050836)'s the character minhyuk will be cosplaying, in case you've never heard of logy or atelier!
> 
> happy reading!

If Hyungwon already strongly felt as if he didn’t belong in the anime convention with all the other passionate weebs, then standing in front of the entrance to the exclusive _maid cafe_ only made him feel as if he had migrated to a different planet and been forced to live among an alien colony.

It was not so much a restaurant as it was a booth—the walls were made of cheap wood painted a light shade of pink with thin white stripes, its main purpose being that it blocks the cafe from the rest of the convention. Each of the tables were made to seat around four people at most, with dainty chairs surrounding an equally petite table—but even despite that, they looked as if they were only able to fit one saucer and perhaps two or three mugs of coffee at most.

Not only was the design of the furniture taken into account, the maids and the pastries, too, fit well into the over-all look. The girls milling around wore dresses so long they went past their knees; on their arms were trays filled with saucers holding cakes that Hyungwon thinks were too _tiny_ to even be _considered_ cakes. The frilly white aprons they donned matched the extravagant lace curtains that lined the pink walls and the fake windows, giving the whole booth the vibe of a legitimate maid cafe.

Hyungwon scrunches his nose distastefully, taking in both the cafe as an entirety and the large amount of people occupying a good ninety percent of the tables. The organizers of this particular booth clearly prioritized the aesthetics over anything else.

“ _Onii-sama_!” The maid at the front desk exclaims, a huge smile plastered on her face. Hyungwon so desperately wants to cringe. “Welcome home! Do you have a reservation, or should I write you down as walk-in?”

“Uh.” He replies, dumbfounded. He doesn’t know what’s worse—being alone lining up for a maid cafe, or being called _onii-sama_.

It should be said that Hyungwon would _never_ voluntarily enter a maid cafe, much less line up for one. He was not even here by choice, he was only here because Minhyuk had asked him to. (Not that he likes him or anything. He still wanted to punch the guy in the face.)

It was during the last period of school earlier that he was asked by Minhyuk about his plans. He had been on the verge of dozing off in the middle of the Calculus discussion when his phone vibrated in his pocket, successfully shocking him awake.

The message thread goes:

 

 **anime dude**  
........

..... hyungwonnie ...... ? :”D

 

 **Hyungwon**  
I thought you deleted my contact?

 

 **anime dude**  
...... URGH

[choked phoenix wright cornered by edgeworth noises]

well u see... out of the goodness of my BIG heart..... i’ve decided to spare ur contact... even if u just insulted the love of my life & subsequently ruined any semblance of friendship we had going between us.... but it’s totally fine haha!!! i can just force u to watch hq!! w me again until u TRULY understand :^)

u should be thankful

 

 **Hyungwon**  
Actually, I was happy with my number out of your contacts. Take it out.

 

 **anime dude**  
.... i’m pretending u never sent that message

anyway do u have plans l8er... like for the con

 

 **Hyungwon**  
No.

 

 **anime dude**  
OH GOOD!! can u meet me @ the maid cafe once u get there?? :D

 

 **Hyungwon**  
I hate maid cafes.

 

 **anime dude**  
come oooooonnnnnnn i have a surprise

 

 **Hyungwon**  
No.

 

 **anime dude**  
PLSSSSSSS IT’S IMPORTAN T

i’ll keep spamming u until u say yes fukin try me

PLSLSLS

PLS

PL SSS

:^(

 

 **Hyungwon**  
Oh my god, fine! Stop it.

 

 **anime dude**  
:^D

 

Bottom line is, Hyungwon was forced. He also hates his life.

He shakes his head, clearing his throat. “I have a reservation. I mean, my friend does.”

The maid opens a thin logbook. “Name?”

“Minhyuk. Lee Minhyuk.”

“Table sixteen. Right this way, _onii-sama_!”

She leads him into the cafe, maneuvering them both around tables and people. He feels sets of eyes trained on him despite pointedly not looking at anyone, and he realizes he looked so out of place amidst all the color, as he currently donned a dark leather jacket and jeans. (No, he definitely did not dress up to impress Minhyuk.)

_Stop looking at me! I watch anime just as much as the next person in this room!_

She eventually drops him off at a table by the left wall. Much to his confusion, Minhyuk was nowhere to be seen. The seats were instead occupied by two other people he recognized from school.

One of them was Lee Jooheon, Minhyuk’s best friend, calmly sipping at his oolong tea as he looked up at him. Sitting next to him was Lim Changkyun, too busy playing some shooter game on his phone to notice Hyungwon.

He hesitantly sits across the both of them, trying to avoid any and all eye contact.

“Your server today is Min-chan.” She says, dropping a menu on the table. “Min-chan will be here to take your order when you’re ready. Have a nice stay!”

She leaves him with the two, a trail of a faint flowery fragrance the only thing indicating she was once there. It is only when Jooheon clears his throat that he realizes the full implications of the situation at hand.

These were _two other people_ he knew from school.

Seeing him at a _maid cafe_.

A _maid cafe_ in an _anime convention_.

He feels the last few remnants of his dignity crumble to dust and fly away with the wind as the same Kill Bill sirens from yesterday start blaring in his head.  _OH GOD, MORE PEOPLE KNOW I LIKE ANIME!_

He opens his mouth; what he was going to say, he wasn’t certain—the only thing that leaves him is a squeaky exhale.

Changkyun snorts, but does not look up from his game.

Before he could do anything to save his own ass, Jooheon speaks up. “So you’re the Hyungwon guy Minhyuk couldn’t shut up about?” He raises an eyebrow appraisingly. “Kinda expected... someone else.”

He would have taken offense to that statement if he had not been speechless. Luckily, the boy who had been playing on his phone pauses his game and looks at Hyungwon. His eyes narrow as he looks him from top to bottom, lips pursed. Hyungwon shifts under the obvious scrutiny.

“Yeah,” he says with an air of finality, shrugging and resuming his game, albeit a bit distractedly, “someone more _weeby_.”

“It’s what’s on the inside that matters, Kyunnie.” Jooheon chuckles. “He may be some incarnation of Bruce Wayne, rich playboy and all that jazz, but I’m a _hundred percent_ sure he’s one of those creepy nerds with secret hentai dens and those mousepads with the 3D anime girl boobs.”

Hyungwon’s disgust at the other’s statement temporarily shakes him out of his speechlessness. “H-hey, say whatever the fuck you want but I don’t have any secret _hentai den_.”

“That’s exactly what someone with a secret hentai den would say.” Changkyun pipes.

He splutters. “How _else_ am I supposed to say I don’t have one then?”

“You can’t.”

“This is fucking ridiculous. Search my home, you won’t see anything—“

“Dude, it’s called a _secret den_ for a reason... we aren’t supposed to be able to find it.”

“I don’t have one!”

“Then why are you so defensive?” Changkyun smirks.

Hyungwon now sees why Minhyuk was friends with these people. They were all overly annoying.

Jooheon coughs. “So you admit you have the mousepad?”

“I nev... I _never_ —“ Hyungwon squeaks, cheeks heating up as he remembers the presence of a certain mousepad on his desk back in the penthouse. “Th-they’re comfortable, okay!”

Great. Now that makes _four_ people who think Hyungwon is a furry _and_ a hentai creep.

The other cackles loudly, doubling over and clutching his stomach. Changkyun wasn’t even paying attention to his game anymore, he had joined Jooheon in the laughing—his screen now flashed the words “ _game over_ ” in big red letters, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Relax, dude,” Jooheon says, wiping tears from the sides of his eyes, “I was just messing with you. I definitely didn’t see _that_ confession coming, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Seriously, there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Changkyun assures, “ _everyone_ owns the mousepad.”

“Minhyuk doesn’t,” Jooheon frowns, “but then again he owns more... uh, _questionable_ things.”

 _So mousepads of anime girls and 3D boobs aren't questionable things?_ Hyungwon thinks, but does not voice out. “Huh?”

“You haven’t met the _real_ Minhyuk until you’ve seen his manga collection.” Changkyun points out.

A shiver travels down Hyungwon’s spine, the reason why unbeknownst to him. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t even want to know what I mean. Trust me.”

“I’ve seen things I never thought I’d see in this lifetime,” Jooheon begins, “it was horrible. Who knew people could even do that? It looked so... _unnatural_.”

“Not to mention how weird the anatomy is. Hands aren’t supposed to be _that_ big.”

“They’re even bigger than their _faces_.”

“Those huge hands are what I see in the corner of my room when I have sleep paralysis.”

“Oh man, you should have seen Minhyuk’s face when he walked in on me reading his manga for the first time.” Jooheon exclaims to Hyungwon, laughing. “He looked like a deer caught in the fucking headlights, it was _wild_.”

“He went batshit.” Changkyun adds.

“He bruised my arm when he tackled me to the ground!” The other exclaims, horror-stricken.

“And then he wrestled you again when he saw that the fall made the front cover of his manga fold in half.”

Jooheon shudders. “Let this be a lesson, Chae Hyungwon. When Minhyuk lets you in his room, and he _will_ , eventually,”—an exaggerated wink that makes Hyungwon’s cheeks redden for some reason—“do _not_ touch his manga collection. Don’t even fuckin’ _look_ at it, treat it as if it isn’t there in your direct line of vision when you sit on his bed, which you will _also_ do eventually,”—another exaggerated wink—“that’s all. If you actually do any of those, save yourself. Run as fast as you can and never look back.”

Hyungwon does not know what to do with this information. He blinks. “Okay...?”

“Don’t tell Minhyuk anything about this conversation.” The other adds, smiling almost wryly. “I’ll throttle you if you do.”

For the umpteenth time this week, Hyungwon fears for his life.

A faint smile crosses Changkyun’s face. “Whatever is said in this circle of weebs _stays_ in this circle of weebs.”

That statement reopens the pit of dread in Hyungwon’s stomach. He had almost forgotten about the fact that they knew of his deepest, darkest secret. He must have made some weird face, because Jooheon immediately jumps into saying something that was probably meant to be soothing and reassuring.

“Don’t worry, we haven’t told anyone!”

Hyungwon starts looking more horrified. Changkyun slaps the other.

“Dumbfuck, you made it sound like we were _planning_ to!” He hisses, then turns to Hyungwon again to smile apologetically. “Sorry, what he meant to say was that we _aren’t_ going to tell anyone.”

“B-but _how_ did you—“ Hyungwon begins shakily.

“How did we...?”

“F-find... _find_ —“

“Find out?” Jooheon supplies helpfully. “Well, how else?”

His eyes widen as the truth comes crashing down on him. The only way they would have found out was if a _certain someone_ had failed to keep his promise. He grits his teeth.

“That little _shit_.” He growls.

“Was he not supposed to tell us?” Changkyun asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“He wasn’t supposed to tell _anyone_.” Hyungwon hisses, resting his face in his hands in exasperation.

Jooheon shrugs. “I mean, even if he didn’t, we would have caught on to it eventually, seeing as we’re, well, in an _anime_ convention.”

“I guess it can’t be helped,” Hyungwon sighs, “three people is the new limit. If it goes beyond that, I’ll hunt you all down one by one. Starting with the missing bitch.”

Changkyun snorts. “Don’t let this give you the wrong idea. Minhyuk is very trustworthy, it’s just that he has this tendency to tell _us_ everything. That’s really it, he’s noisy around everyone else, but he’s really only open around me and Jooheon.”

He remembers how Minhyuk had told him that people don’t tolerate him often, and given what Changkyun just said, the boy really only had two people who he could trust with anything. Hyungwon had two people he considered his best friends, but there were plenty others in his circle—Minhyuk had close to no one.

The mood turns just the slightest bit gloomy. Jooheon picks up his cup of tea and takes a sip, surveying the cafe. Changkyun turns back to his phone and repeats the level he had lost, soon immersing himself in the game even despite it being muted. Hyungwon doesn’t know what to say.

“Minhyuk’s taking pretty long.” The younger says, eyes not leaving his phone screen.

“Yeah, actually. It’s been...” Jooheon glances at his watch. “An hour.”

“There must be a lot of people then.”

“As usual.”

 _Huh?_ Hyungwon frowns. “Where is he anyway? What’s he doing?”

Jooheon smiles. “He’s busy doing his job. You’ll see him soon.”

_Job?_

Hyungwon’s boredom drives his mind to make up theories as to where Minhyuk could be and what he could be doing. The word “job” could also mean “business”, and that could imply that Minhyuk was out taking a shit in the washroom—but just as Jooheon said, he had been gone for an hour, and unless his shit was unnaturally _huge_ , it was very unlikely.

He then thinks about how high school students like them could only go as far as having part-time jobs, given how they had to juggle academics as well. If his two friends were here waiting for him, it could only mean that Minhyuk was working _inside_ the convention.

A part-time job inside the convention.

That could only mean...

Hyungwon looks around, and when his varying thoughts all lead to one conclusion, he couldn’t stop his face from heating up.

His conclusion?

Lee Minhyuk was a motherfucking _maid_.

He tries to avoid thinking about it, but his mind runs ahead of him—he imagines Minhyuk in a black dress that went just a little bit above his knees because he was taller than the girls. This Minhyuk had a frilly white apron tied around his waist, two clumps of his equally white hair tied up into two small pigtails.

He thinks of the boy smiling brightly as he walks around taking orders, carrying a tray that held plates of different pastries and cups of different drinks. He thinks about how Minhyuk’s smile would be different in front of him, how it would widen considerably once he sees him in the cafe, and how his skirt would ride up his thighs just the _tiniest_ bit as he leans over to wipe tables—his knees go weak despite being seated, and he feels the beginnings of an _extremely_ unwelcome feeling settle in his stomach.

He thinks and thinks and thinks until his mind goes into a frenzy even he can no longer stop, and he feels like tearing his fucking _hair_ out because his ears are as red as ever and he can’t stop thinking about Minhyuk in a maid outfit and now he will not only be known as a furry or a hentai creep but also a weirdo with a goddamn _crossdressing ki_ —

The damning detail that put the final nail in the _Minhyuk is a maid_ coffin was Jooheon’s answer to his next question.

“W-what was the name of our server again?” He asks, dreading the answer.

“Hm? Min-chan, right?” Then he smiles in a way that Hyungwon would _definitely_ think he was implying something.

He gulps as if taking his final breath, swearing his soul to the gods who protect all those with crossdressing kinks.

Min-chan.

 _Min_ short for Lee fucking _Minhyuk_.

 _Min-chan_.

He suddenly feels warmer, and he has a huge feeling it isn’t because of his jacket, despite it being made of real leather.

Just as he was about to have a complete meltdown, a group of girls start squealing behind him, effectively distracting him from his unwelcome thoughts.

Jooheon looks past Hyungwon’s shoulder out of curiosity then raises his eyebrows. “Well, speak of the devil. There he is.”

Hyungwon whips his head around so fast he feels as if his neck was going to snap. His eyes survey the area, almost crazily searching for a white-haired boy dressed in a maid outfit—

—only for his eyes to lock on a Minhyuk who was very obviously _not_ wearing a maid outfit, or even a dress for that matter, but was in a get-up that somehow looked hotter than if he were to cosplay as a girl.

Instead of a white apron over a black dress, he wore a reddish brown jacket over a black shirt; a slightly fancy belt was tied around his waist, and the design of his jeans was very unique, but somehow complemented his white shoes. (Hyungwon notes with almost the same wildness as earlier that he wore some sort of harness around his right thigh, which he chooses to ignore before he becomes even more flustered.) He wore fingerless gloves that made his already nice hands look even _nicer_ , with fake bronze leather lining his knuckles.

The unusual clothes weren’t even the most interesting part of his outfit—it was the very genuine-looking props he had on his person. In his right hand, he brandished a long silver sword, its bronze hilt making it look like it came straight out of a steampunk game. Attached to his left glove was some sort of contraption that slightly resembled a watch—Hyungwon could not see much from how far he sat, but he could tell it looked very much real.

He could only gape as he watched the other converse with the group of girls who had squealed, still entranced by how—oh god, he can’t believe he’s about to say this— _handsome_ he looked. He didn’t even _know_ the character he was cosplaying, must be from some lesser known game or anime, but one thing he _could_ say for sure was that he looked hot as all hell.

If he was already gay both before and after seeing his _Tomoe_ cosplay from yesterday, then he was ten times gayer now more than ever seeing how Minhyuk currently looked.

Minhyuk laughs at something one of the girls says, effortlessly twirling the sword in his right hand. Hyungwon tries to ignore the way his heart quickens its pace.

“He’s kinda known for his cosplays,” Jooheon explains, chuckling at his awestruck expression, “he’s really good at what he does.”

“Yeah, we keep telling him to start charging people for pics, because he’d be rich as _hell_ if he did.” Changkyun adds.

Hyungwon feels as if someone had kicked him in the chest, breath escaping his lungs, when Minhyuk glances at his direction for a second. It must have been by accident, because the other does a double take and turns his head fully when he realizes just who he saw.

A lopsided grin appears on his face when his eyes meet Hyungwon’s, making him look all the more handsome and _flirty_ and so uncharacteristically _Minhyuk_ that Hyungwon feels as if a fat baby is sitting on his heart and is refusing to get off no matter how hard he pleads.

“Kick me in the fucking face right this instant.” He mutters under his breath as he watches Minhyuk turn on his heel and abandon the group he was talking to.

Jooheon frowns. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He holds his breath when he arrives at their table. Minhyuk’s right arm snakes around his shoulders, sword dangling loosely from his hand. Hyungwon has the sudden urge to hurl himself across the Pacific Ocean.

“Hyungwonnie, you made it!” He exclaims excitedly.

Changkyun raises an eyebrow, but doesn't let his focus stray from the game he was playing. “So only _he_ gets a greeting?”

Minhyuk blushes. He walks to the other side of the table and lightly whacks the back of the younger’s head. “Shut up, I already saw you both earlier.”

“ _Suuuuure_.” Jooheon drawls, sipping his tea. “Excuses, excuses.”

Minhyuk gives him a similar whack, making him choke on his drink. “Wh—hey!”

“This is Jooheon.” He says calmly, gesturing to the boy who was currently a coughing mess. “He’s my best friend. Unfortunately.”

“You should be _glad_ I haven’t pushed you off a cliff yet after dealing with you for ten years—“

“And this is Changkyun.” He pats the younger’s head. He was too engrossed in his game to react. “He’s Jooheon’s boyfriend, so he’s my best friend by default.”

“That’s not how it works.” Changkyun mutters.

“Don’t mind them, I know they love me.” Minhyuk concludes, beaming.

“Unfortunately.” Jooheon mutters.

The more Hyungwon looks at them, the more he thinks they are a very unlikely trio. Jooheon and Changkyun had a different sense of humor, and were both relatively calm and collected. Minhyuk, on the other hand, was like an unopened bottle of Coca Cola that had been accidentally shaken and was trembling, ready to erupt.

“You’re probably wondering why I told you to meet me here.” Minhyuk says, plopping down on the seat next to his.

“Actually, yeah.” Hyungwon blinks. “Is this the surprise you were talking about?”

Jooheon raises an eyebrow, both curious and confused. “Surprise?”

Changkyun pauses his game to look at Minhyuk.

Minhyuk’s cheeks heat up. “N-no! That’s different.”

“You didn’t tell us anything about a surprise.” The younger says slowly.

”It doesn’t matter.” Minhyuk says quickly. “Anyway, I told you to come here because Jooheon and Changkyun wanted to talk to you. For some reason.”

“Oh, right!” Jooheon says, clapping once. “Yes. We wanted to have a few words with you about... _stuff_.”

He directs a piercing gaze at Hyungwon. He gulps subconsciously.

“Let’s start.” He turns to the white-haired boy. “Run along now, Minhyuk. Go away. _Shoo_.”

Minhyuk splutters. “B-but I just got here!”

“Does it look like I give two hoots?”

“You can’t kick me out, I reserved this table under _my_ name!”

“Thanks. Now get out.”

“No.” Minhyuk makes a show of planting his ass firmly on his seat, refusing to get off. He pouts. “I’m not leaving this seat. You can talk about whatever you want to talk about while I’m here.”

Changkyun’s hand suddenly reaches under the table and grasps at Minhyuk’s right thigh.

“What the fuck—“

He pulls at one of the buckles of his harness until a part of it comes completely off, making the assortment of props that were once attached to it scatter on the floor.

“What the _fuck_!” Minhyuk shrieks, frantically looking at his scattered stuff in distress.

“Whoops.” Changkyun says, nonchalant.

“How _dare_ you!” He yells, collecting the props in his arms. “Oh, my poor babies... I’m so sorry that a bitch like this did that to you, oh my _god_ —“

He stands up, harness dangling pathetically from his right thigh. “Rot in hell.” He hisses at the younger. “I’ll be back for Hyungwon _only_.”

He turns on his heel and scurries out of the cafe in search of a washroom.

Hyungwon simply watches him leave, shocked and unsure of how to respond.

“That should buy us a couple of minutes.” Changkyun mumbles. “The nearest washroom is across the convention.”

“You’re the devil.” Hyungwon says, horrified.

“Thanks. I get that a lot.”

“Now that we’ve gotten rid of the annoying pest,” Jooheon begins, crossing his arms in a way that suggests he means business, “there are some things we wanted to tell you. Rules to establish, if I must put it that way.”

Hyungwon frowns. “Rules for what?”

Jooheon ignores his question. “You see, Minhyuk is like... our son. Our very _high-maintenance_ son. He’s annoying as fuck and tends to be extremely talkative. And he demands to be fed every five hours.”

“He hates cucumbers.” Changkyun adds.

“Yes, he hates cucumbers. Actually, no, hate is a light word. He _loathes_ cucumbers. If he sees even a quarter of a slice in his food, he’ll go full-on drama queen, and that isn’t something you want to witness in this lifetime.”

Hyungwon does not know what to do with this information. “Are you... trying to do something here?”

Jooheon’s eyes widen just a fraction, mildly shocked. “Yes, actually. That was a test. We were trying to see if that would change your view on him.”

“You passed. Congrats.” Changkyun says disinterestedly.

Hyungwon simply looks at the two of them, still confused.

“All of that was true, though,” Jooheon quickly adds, “but my point is... please take care of Minhyuk.”

Now it was Hyungwon’s turn to be shocked. His throat dries when he sees the expression on the other’s face shift into something more down, as if pleading. Even as early as now, he _knew_ he was going to screw everything up eventually, but seeing Jooheon’s face made him feel even worse about it. He was about to promise to do something he won’t be able to do.

“He may be, well, _extra_ but there are plenty more good things about him.” Jooheon continues softly. “He’s annoying as fuck, but he’s caring and he hates seeing people he loves sad. He’s talkative, but he isn’t self-centered—he always makes sure to include others in the conversation. He hates cucumbers...” He pauses to think, then frowns. “Actually, there’s no excusing that. He just really hates cucumbers.”

“Just... take care of him, okay? I’ve never seen him like this before, like with another person, and it’s _scary_ because he’s been fucked over so many times in the past just for being the person he is.”

Hyungwon doesn’t know what to say. He opens his mouth, but doesn’t do anything other than take a deep breath, because he couldn’t bring himself to promise not to do something that he might—that he _will_ actually do later on. He _does_ enjoy Minhyuk’s company, but only here in the convention. Any interaction outside the four corners of this venue meant the immediate downfall of his reign as the hot, mysterious, and rich popular guy.

 _How disgusting_ , he thinks to himself, _you care about your reputation more than the things that make you happy_.

Luckily, he’s saved from saying anything when Changkyun clears his throat.

“Can I say it?” He whispers to Jooheon, excited.

The other sighs. “Fine.”

Changkyun then turns to him, the usual neutral expression back on his face. “Break his heart and I’ll break _your face_.”

Hyungwon chokes. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, he’s been wanting to say that for a while now.” Jooheon apologizes, glancing at his boyfriend, who was currently patting himself on the back proudly. “But you get the gist of it, right?”

“I... actually don’t.” Hyungwon says.

Jooheon’s mouth drops. “Are you actually that dense?”

“ _What_?”

He slowly turns to face his boyfriend. “Kyunnie,” he begins, distressed, “they’re literally a couple of idiots.”

The younger’s mouth drops as well. “It’s hilarious, but it’s also very concerning.”

“The fuck are you both on about?”

Jooheon furrows his eyebrows and looks at him again. “Hyungwon, he lik—“

“Code red!” Changkyun exclaims suddenly. “Minhyuk at 12:00!”

Jooheon clumsily picks up his cup of tea and gulps down a lot of it, trying to appear as if nothing had happened. Changkyun shakes as he resumes his game.

The next thing he hears is Minhyuk stomping back to the seat beside him. He frowns apologetically at Hyungwon, dropping his sword and reaching out to squish his cheeks.

“I’m so, so sorry I left you with these dickheads,” he says, occasionally directing hostile glances at the other two, “I’m going to make them pay for what they did.”

“Please get your hands off my face.”

Minhyuk does not. He keeps squishing his cheeks anyway.

“You were quick.” Changkyun says.

“Yes, I was,” he sneers, “because _someone_ was _nice_ enough to offer the back of their booth to allow me to fix my wardrobe malfunction.”

“Well, good for you.”

“I walked around like a _fool_.” He adds, seething.

Changkyun snorts. “Don’t you always?”

“That’s it. We’re leaving.” He stands abruptly, picking up his sword with his right hand and grabbing Hyungwon’s hand with the other. “Take care of the bill.”

Changkyun drops his phone in disbelief.

Jooheon‘s jaw drops. “You drank coffee, pay for yourself!”

“I said I was gonna make you both pay for what you did.”

“I didn’t think you meant it _literally_!”

“Well I did.” Minhyuk says with no remorse whatsoever. “Ta-ta, losers!”

Hyungwon had the physical capabilities similar to that of a praying mantis, so he couldn’t do much to resist being tugged out by Minhyuk. When he looks back at the table, however, he sees Jooheon give him a thumbs up. Changkyun does the gesture showing that he was watching Hyungwon.

“Now on to much _better_ things,” Minhyuk says, beaming, “like my surprise for you!”

He frowns. “What the fuck is it with you and surprises?”

“This is the last one, I swear,” he laughs sheepishly, rubbing his neck.

“At this rate, I’m gonna owe you too much.”

“You don’t have to give me anything in return,” Minhyuk says, winking playfully, “the mere presence of my hot, biker boyfriend is more than enough.”

Hyungwon trips on his own feet like a fool.

“ _Fake_!” Minhyuk screams suddenly, cheeks reddening, “I meant. Fake hot, biker boyfriend.”

Hyungwon could not stop himself from blurting out the next question. “Which one? Fake hot, fake biker, or fake boyfriend?”

Now was a very convenient time for his uber to arrive. He could _really_ use a trip down an abyss.

He feels less embarrassed and realizes that it was more or less worth it when he sees the blush on Minhyuk’s face darken considerably. The other’s mouth opens and closes repeatedly, lost for words and making him look like a freshly-caught fish.

“I-I...” He stutters, looking at everything but Hyungwon. “All of the above...?”

Hyungwon raises an eyebrow teasingly. “Fake hot?”

“ _No_!” The other suddenly squeaks. “You’re _very_ hot—“ He covers his mouth right after, eyes wide and ears turning red. ”Wait, shit, I-I mean... yeah, you— _no_ , I,” he hides his face in his hands in what seemed to be a gesture of shame and frustration, “ _ugh_!”

Hyungwon snickers, despite his cheeks being as red as Minhyuk’s.

“You absolute _asshole_ , you’re asking these on purpose!” Minhyuk wails, hitting him repeatedly on the back. “Stop laughing! I hate you!”

“Oh, you hate me? How unfortunate.” Hyungwon taunts, grinning. “The surprise you prepared will be a waste then.”

“You’re still getting your stupid surprise,” Minhyuk grumbles, sighing, “only because you’re cool. And because you look very... nice... today.” His eyes stray towards his leather jacket for a fraction of a second, and this is how Hyungwon knows his plan was a success. (Again, it wasn’t like he dressed up to impress Minhyuk. _Please_.)

“I went through a lot for this, you _better_ love it.”

(He slaps himself before he ends up saying something stupid like “ _I’ll love anything as long as it’s from you_ ”.)

 

Half an hour and maybe a hundred people later, Hyungwon doubts this surprise is even real. Either that, or the surprise was him being Minhyuk’s official photographer.

Turns out the character Minhyuk was cosplaying was extremely popular among girls and guys alike—whether it was because of the game or because it was a white-haired character ( _everyone_ loves the white-haired anime dudes), he wasn’t sure.

“Who are you supposed to be anyway?” Hyungwon had asked earlier, scanning Minhyuk’s costume for what seemed to be the millionth time that day. (And for different reasons this time.)

Minhyuk had stopped in his tracks and gaped at him in disbelief. “You don’t know who this is?”

Hyungwon slowly shook his head, confused.

“For someone who prides himself on his hipster taste, you sure are uncultured.” Minhyuk had said, hands on his hips. “I’m _Logy_ from the Atelier game series.”

Silence.

Hyungwon blinked. “I... have never heard of that game.”

More silence, then a chuckle.

“Good one, Hyungwon,” Minhyuk had said, “that was your funniest joke so far.”

When Hyungwon did not join in on the laughter, Minhyuk’s jaw had dropped.

“No...” He began slowly. “You’re joking...”

Hyungwon merely looked at him.

“First Haikyuu!! and now _Atelier_?” He shrieked, then shook his head in disappointment. “I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. Every hour, I just find more reasons to cut you out of my life. This... this isn’t going to work out, Hyungwonnie.”

Hyungwon had snorted. “I bet it’s just one of those stupid otome games you play.”

“Atelier isn’t an otome game!” He had exclaimed, a fierce blush on his cheeks. “If you actually played it, you’d understand.”

Hyungwon has a huge feeling Minhyuk really only picked up the game because of the hot white-haired guy on the cover.

He laughs humorlessly as he thinks about how long ago that conversation was. He wasn’t even sure if it’s only been half an hour since they left the cafe—he lost track of time maybe, hm, _fifty people ago_.

“Hyungwonnie, can you take our picture?” Minhyuk calls, shaking him from his thoughts and gesturing for him to take the girl’s phone.

He sighs, sticking a hand out. He slides his finger across the screen to open up the camera app. “Any special requests?”

The girl furrows her eyebrows. “Huh?”

He looks at her pointedly. “Portrait? Landscape? Square? Toaster filter?”

“Uh. Portrait?”

He ends up taking a couple of pictures because they change their poses every second. At this point, Hyungwon could care less if they all turned out horrible.

He hands back her phone, an eyebrow raised almost condescendingly. “That’ll be five hundred dollars.”

Her eyes widen. “I don’t ha—“

“Kidding.” He says humorlessly. The expression on his face stays neutral.

She starts laughing, albeit awkwardly as she was unsure about what the joke was. Minhyuk, on the other hand, cackles as if he had just cracked the funniest joke ever.

All his interactions with people asking for photos with Minhyuk went exactly like that. He’d say the five hundred dollar joke, and perhaps half mean it because he deserved to be payed for his _efforts_ , damnit. If Minhyuk’s big surprise was lugging him around as his official photographer, then he should at least get some sort of talent fee in return.

“Come on, Hyungwon!” Minhyuk exclaims, gesturing for him to catch up. He was already a few meters ahead. Hyungwon trudges behind him.

“If I got paid for every time you said that in the past thirty minutes,” He mutters coldly, “I’d be the richest man in the fucking universe. I’d have enough money to buy the entirety of Europe and still have spare bills for, like, a value meal at McDonald’s. Which is _plebeian_ food.”

“Huh?” Minhyuk frowns.

“You should have said the word ‘ _surprise_ ’ earlier on... that’s kind of how it works.”

“What do you mean?”

“Me becoming your official photographer?” Hyungwon explains, slightly irritated. “Or is the big surprise me receiving a paycheck for my photography prowess?”

“ _Photography pro_ —no, what the heck, that’s not it.” Minhyuk says, eyebrows furrowing. “And since when were you my official photographer?”

Hyungwon looks at him pointedly. “Perhaps... I don’t know... _since we left the cafe_?”

“You’re being ridiculous. I didn’t even think people would ask for pics with me.”

“And _that’s_ where you went wrong—you _should_ have expected it! I mean,” he scans Minhyuk from head to toe, then stops and blushes furiously when he realizes he’s sort of checking him out, “ugh, you know what I mean!”

Minhyuk simply looks at him, confused. Hyungwon is about to open his mouth again and say whatever comes to mind when the other’s trademark sly smile appears on his face.

“Oh, I see what’s up...”

“Wh—“

Minhyuk bends his knees a bit and points at him dramatically, in a fashion similar to that of when they met for the first time the other day. “You’re _jealous_!”

If this were a cartoon, Hyungwon’s eyes would have bulged out of his head. He chokes on his own saliva. “J-j- _jealous_?“ He repeats incredulously, voice embarrassingly cracking at the last syllable. He clears his throat in shame, cheeks heating, and tries his best to school his voice into a more snarky tone. “ _Please_. As if.”

“Denial is just the first stage.” The other singsongs, wagging a finger.

“Fuck you, I’m not jealous.”

“Aww, you _are_ ,” Minhyuk coos, grinning. He drawls as if talking to an infant, and his mouth almost starts looking like the three face (:3), “don’t worry, baby, I’ll take a picture with you too later.”

Hyungwon pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to appear tired despite the quick beating of his heart. “Please don’t call me that ever again.”

“It’s alright! I totally understand what you’re feeling right now,” he smirks, then gestures to his body. He gloats, “I mean, who wouldn’t want a piece of _this_?”

He strikes a pose, back facing Hyungwon with his hands on his hips, then he swivels around waist up with the intention of showing off his pancake-flat ass—all as if he wasn’t currently in the middle of a fucking _convention_. Hyungwon feels the secondhand embarrassment creep up his spine.

Hyungwon scrunches his nose distastefully, appearing annoyed (though the ever-present blush on his cheeks seemed to show otherwise). “Boy, do I have some news for you.”

“Headline! Cosplayer Lee Minhyuk looking hot today, everyone wants a piece of him—but what’s new?” The boy himself says, voice mimicking that of a newscaster’s.

Hyungwon stifles a laugh, cheeks puffing comically, but he holds it back before Minhyuk sees that he had made him laugh and gloats some more. (The boy was already egotistical enough.)

He stops in his tracks when the realization dawns on him like a bag of bricks looming from above, ready to drop any second.

 _Wait a minute_ , he thinks to himself, _I’m supposed to be mad at this guy. Why the fuck am I laughing?_

He facepalms. Goddamnit. Here he is, once again, distracted from everything by Lee Minhyuk and his stupid charms.

If Minhyuk had noticed his moment of stupidity, he doesn’t talk about it. When Hyungwon looks up, he sees the other pointing excitedly at a stall located almost at the end of the section.

“There it is!” He exclaims. He unconsciously takes hold of Hyungwon’s hand and tugs him towards the small booth. (It takes every fiber in Hyungwon’s very being to not melt right then and there.) “Hurry!”

He launches into a run, and Hyungwon tries his best to imitate his pace. “Minhyuk, fuck, I can’t even walk up a flight of stairs without having to catch my breath—!”

“Sorry, I kept him waiting since yesterday after you left!” Minhyuk exclaims to him, still facing onwards. “He might put it on display if we don’t claim it now!”

“ _Huh_?”

Before he has the chance to question Minhyuk further, they arrive at the front of the booth. Hyungwon heaves and bends forward in exhaustion, free hand weakly searching for something to grasp. He thinks Minhyuk sold his soul to a demon in exchange for athletic abilities, because not even a single drop of sweat was seen on his face.

The booth was not as big as others—in fact, it did not catch much attention to itself. It sold the usuals; keychains, shirts, and perhaps a few figurines here and there. It was the plainest stall in the whole convention, there was no doubting that.

A boy was seated behind the table, all his attention on the phone he held in his hands.

Minhyuk clears his throat. “Yuta.”

The boy— _Yuta_ glances at him then locks his phone. “Was wondering when you’d show your stupid face. It’s been more than twenty four hours, dude.”

“I knoooooow,” Minhyuk whines, pouting, “I’m sorry. But what matters is we’re here now!”

Yuta’s eyes glint. “Okay, but what if I sold him already?”

 _Him_? Hyungwon’s stomach drops. If this is what he thinks it is—

Minhyuk gasps. “You _wouldn’t_.”

“Well, what if I did?”

“You _didn’t_.”

They both stare at each other for a couple of seconds, as if daring the other to speak up first.

Finally, Yuta relents. He sighs deeply then gestures for the both of them to follow him behind the booth. “This is the _last time_ I’m pulling this shit for you.”

He looks at Hyungwon then rolls his eyes, smiling fondly. He doesn’t say anything but Hyungwon relates. It was physically impossible to resist Minhyuk—he had powers.

Once behind the booth, they are once again led to the back of some sort of divider covered by hanging cloth, where many boxes of figurines and other different merchandise were stacked neatly on the ground. Yuta begins searching through piles.

“It isn’t for me,” Minhyuk glances at Hyungwon, then beams.

“Oh?” Yuta smirks.

“Yeah.”

“Well, then again, you and your generic ass aren’t cultured enough to play something as legendary and groundbreaking as Final Fantasy.”

Two words imprint themselves in Hyungwon’s mind.

 _Final Fantasy_.

His eyes widen. No fucking way.

“Fuck you, I _do_ play Final Fantasy—“

“Fake fan, you look like you only own one of the games and haven’t touched it... purely for bragging rights. And maybe the ‘ _gamer dude_ ’ title.”

“I’ve literally played every single game in the franchise—“

“Oh my fucking _god_ ,” is the first thing Hyungwon exclaims once he gets over his shock. He stares at Minhyuk with wide eyes. “Did you find the—“

“Limited Edition Cloud Strife,” Yuta says, reading it off the box to confirm. He carefully takes it off a stack. “Our last piece. In very pristine condition, perfect for your glass case.”

Hyungwon feels like crying. And falling to his knees. Or maybe both. (He almost does both.)

He feels happy weeaboo tears prickle the corner of his eyes. He looks Minhyuk in the eye, heart thumping quickly against his ribcage. “I fucking love you. I literally love you so _fucking much_ right now, I’m not even _kidding_ , I’m so happy I could _kiss_ y—”

“Aw, I love you too!” He exclaims, beaming. His cheeks are red for some reason. “And I told you you’d love the surprise! I went through so much shit for this, you have no idea.”

“More like _I_ went through so much shit for this,” Yuta grumbles, “this guy threatened to spit on my hair if I didn’t hide it from people.”

“He did _WHAT_?”

“I did no such thing!” Minhyuk splutters, eyes shaking. “That’s a false accusation!”

Hyungwon exhales, choosing to ignore that. “How did you even _find_ this? We weren’t able to find it yesterday.”

“He didn’t.” Yuta snorts. “He was hanging out here and just happened to see it behind the divider.”

“Stop making me look bad in front of Hyungwon,” Minhyuk hisses at him.

“He should be aware of what he’s going into.”

Hyungwon was still in shock. Call him a weird weeb all you want, but this was literally the best thing anyone has ever done for him. He might even cry as he stares at his Cloud Strife figurine later.

He feels the happy weeaboo tears threaten to fall once again. _His_ Cloud Strife figurine.

“That isn’t free, okay.” Yuta adds quickly. “I need funds to feed my cat.”

“Oops, yeah,” Minhyuk says, laughing sheepishly, “sorry, you’re still gonna have to pay.”

Hyungwon huffs, rolling his eyes. “It’s really no problem.” He whips out his wallet and opens it to reveal a thick wad of bills.

Yuta whistles as he peers inside the wallet. “Damn. Rich boyfriend you’ve got here.”

“Okay, I knew you were rich, but I didn’t know you were _that_ rich.” Minhyuk mumbles in awe. “Where do I apply to be a sugar baby?”

Hyungwon chokes and fumbles with his wallet, but ends up dropping it anyway. He bends on his knees and struggles to collect all the fallen bills. “Shitfuck—“

“He’s too young to be your sugar daddy.”

“Oh, right. So would that make him a sugar... dude... friend...?”

“That might work—“

“Can we _please_ not have this conversation?” Hyungwon blurts, desperate.

He pays Yuta for the figurine—it was quite costly, but was nothing more than an ant bite to his wallet. (He also remembers to use the discount card Minhyuk had given him yesterday. He doesn’t fail to notice how the other’s face lights up.)

When he walks out of the booth, he has an uncharacteristically huge smile on his face, teeth showing and everything. He has literally never been more happy in his entire life.

“I owe you too much,” he tells Minhyuk softly.

“It’s really no problem,” Minhyuk brushes off, beaming.

“But you’ve done so much for me, and we’ve only known each other for, like, a day and a half.”

“I know,” the other laughs, “I just like seeing you happy.”

Hyungwon almost stops walking. “Huh?”

“I don’t know, you just... look unhappy a lot—“

 _That’s my normal face_.

“—and it’s sad because you have a very beautiful smile.”

_That’s my—the fuck._

Hyungwon tries to will his smile away. “Goddammit. You can’t just casually say that.”

“But it’s true!” Minhyuk argues. “Your cheeks get all squishy and pink, and your mouth starts looking like one of those chicken nuggets with the cut-out smiley faces on them.”

“You’re insufferable,” Hyungwon mutters, blushing.

Insufferably kind. Insufferably genuine. Insufferably wholehearted and _adorable_ and—

“Seriously, what do you want?” He persists. “I hate being in debt.”

Minhyuk grins cheekily. “Is the offer for that kiss still up?”

Hyungwon feels as if the world had stopped turning right then and there. His hands go clammy, and his lips dry up. His brain might have short-circuited too, but he wasn’t too sure, he couldn’t focus on anything other than what Minhyuk had just said.

He stumbles. _What the fuck, what the fuck, what the_ — “H-huh?”

“You know, the—“

“That was just a spur-of-the-moment thing!” Hyungwon blurts, voice octaves higher. His entire face felt hot. “I-I didn’t—“

He looks at Minhyuk despite the fact that he now greatly resembled every bright red vegetable out there. He realizes this was a mistake when his eyes automatically stray towards the _lower half_ of the other’s face. Actually, he might have committed a series of mistakes via the domino effect, because _now_ he can’t stop thinking about how soft Minhyuk’s lips look, and how he really looked like a hot white-haired anime character Hyungwon would definitely add to his fictional crush list, and how much he really, _really_ wanted to fucking punch that _stupidly beautiful_ smile off Minhyuk’s goddamn lips with his _own_ goddamn lips and _FUCK_ , WHERE THE _FUCK_ IS HIS _UBER_ —

Minhyuk cackles suddenly, interrupting him from his slow but sure descent into the pit called _developing feelings_. “I know, I know, I was just kidding!”

Hyungwon exhales in relief, but finds that he didn’t really feel relieved at all—there was a tinge of some other alien feeling in him. He couldn’t explain what it was, or even how it felt like—warmth settles in his stomach like the rays of the sun shining upon a lake; he feels it spread to his chest and his shoulders, until both feel weak and make it seem as if his heart was carrying something heavy. This feeling grew exponentially every time he looked at Minhyuk, and that scared him.

“Tomorrow,” he tells Minhyuk, “I’m repaying you tomorrow.”

 _For giving me the discount card, for finding the Limited Edition Cloud Strife, for staying by my side even though I so obviously want to punch you in the face most of the time, for holding my hand and releasing an entire fucking cluster of butterflies in my stomach_ —

Minhyuk snorts, waving it off. “I won’t let you.”

He thinks about the plethora of cash in both his bank account and his wallet. He casts a side-eye at the other. “We’ll see about that.”

The only way things could go was _his_ way. Because once again, if Hyungwon was anything, he was stubborn.

 

 

Hyungwon never seems to run out of reasons why he should regret waking up in the morning—and today, a very prevalent pain in his ass came in the form of his two best friends.

He was currently standing at the entrance of the cafeteria, carrying in one hand his fancy lunchbox (the thermal insulated kind that had different compartments and could be stacked on one another). He searches through the crowd for a familiar pair of people, a part of him wanting to just give up and sit alone.

He continues looking anyway, because he probably, _maybe_ loved his friends.

Much to his surprise, across the room from where he stood was Hoseok excitedly waving his arms, motioning for Hyungwon to come over.

He starts walking slowly, then realizes that he should have just sat alone when he hears what could have been the sound of the gates of hell opening up for him.

The other inhales deeply then yells, “Over yiff, Wonnie!”

He stops in his tracks.

He almost drops his rich schoolboy lunchbox.

Correction, he probably, _maybe_ hated his friends.

_Over yiff, Wonnie._

He feels as if he has the eyes of everyone in the room glued to his back, even though most of them were unaware of what had just transpired. He compares himself to a raging bull, Hoseok was the red cloth he was about to ram his fucking horns into.

The furry statement repeats in his head like a broken record—over and over, again and again, as if to constantly remind him that this was the life he chose, this was the path he took, he did this to himself. His own carelessness in terms of forgetting to crop out Minhyuk’s Tomoe fox ears was the very cause of his own figurative demise.

And as if screaming it wasn’t enough, Hoseok mimes having _dog ears_ , eliciting a couple of chuckles from different tables—the motherfucker was calling attention to himself!

He starts moving subconsciously, blinded by his own shame, towards the table his two friends had reserved. He walks quickly and looks at no one but Hoseok, so as to try and reduce the embarrassment he was currently feeling.

“What the _fuck_ possessed you to even _SAY THAT_?” is the first thing he says to Hoseok. The sentence starts out as an almost quiet hiss, but progresses into a shout.

Hoseok splutters, genuinely confused. “Was it wrong to say that?”

Hyungwon is appalled. Everything about this situation was wrong. He drowns out the sound of Kihyun’s unrelenting cackling in the background.

“Yes, Hoseok, it was!” He exclaims, carelessly dropping his lunchbox on the table. He sits with an exaggerated huff. “How many fucking times will I have to tell you both that I am _not_ a furry?”

“Zero,” Kihyun says through fits of laughter, “because you’re _already_ exposed, dipshit. There’s nothing you can do.”

Hoseok nods, then adds, “We’re being supportive!”

Hyungwon runs a hand down his face in exasperation. It’s a goddamn miracle he hasn’t pushed them off a cliff yet.

“Listen,” Kihyun begins, “we’re just glad you found another furry like yourself, and we trust that this person is good for you. Do you know how hard it is to find a decent furry who hasn’t forgotten their humanity yet?”

Hyungwon frowns. “How would you know how hard it is?”

“That doesn’t matter,” the other says quickly, “but what _does_ matter is that we weren’t lying when we said that we would support you through this... uh, _exploratory_ stage of your life.”

Hoseok nods excitedly. Hyungwon simply looks at the both of them disgustedly.

“Whatever,” Hyungwon mutters, opening his lunchbox and taking out his food.

When he begins eating, he spaces out. His brain automatically shuts out every other noise within his vicinity—

(“ _Look, Hoseok, he’s being distant now—this is your fault!_ ” “ _What did_ I _do?_ ” “ _You used yiff wrong! That’s not what yiff means!_ ” “ _Well, sorry, I don’t speak furry! How do_ you _know what yiff means anyway?_ ” “...”)

—and locks him in his thoughts, said thoughts being about certain things he had planned for his hangout with a certain someone.

Actually, there wasn’t really any plan, because he was going to channel his inner sugar daddy and buy Minhyuk whatever he wanted.

He had considered the fact that maybe it was too much, because spoiling Minhyuk would mean indirectly inflating his ego all the more—but then again, he had so much time (and money) to kill, so why not?

Later that hour, he gets too lost in thought that he doesn’t realize that lunch was about to end. Hoseok calls his attention by once again speaking in incorrect furry language, and he doesn’t leave the cafeteria before reprimanding the other for doing so.

On the way out, he unintentionally passes by the previously mentioned certain someone’s table. The boy’s eyes gleam, and he smiles widely, excitedly greeting Hyungwon with a slight wave. (That did a number on Hyungwon’s heart, but he’d _never_ admit it, even if you threatened to make him bald.)

“Hyungwon!”

He feels like the biggest jerk alive when he does not spare even a glance at the other, ignoring his wave and his entire existence. He continues walking despite his feet beginning to feel heavier every step he takes—he couldn’t risk greeting the other back and losing his hot, mysterious, and rich popular guy image.

He tries not to think about the way Minhyuk’s face had fallen in confusion, an uncharacteristic frown appearing on his face. He had sulked a bit, and Hyungwon felt guilty, but didn’t do anything about it.

He does, however, hastily take his phone out of his pocket once he leaves the area. He opens up a very familiar thread and types out a message.

 

 **Hyungwon**  
You still up for later?

 

It takes a while for Minhyuk to reply, which was very unusual.

 

 **anime dude**  
.... ur talking to me?

 

 **Hyungwon**  
Huh?

 

 **anime dude**  
i thought u were mad at me or something idk

...

r u ?（；＿；）

 

(He gulps.)

 

 **Hyungwon**  
Why would you think that?

 

 **anime dude**  
u kinda walked past me a while ago when i called ur name lol

or was that an accident

 

 **Hyungwon**  
Oh, really? I must not have heard you. I tend to space out a lot.

 

(He was aware he was lying through his teeth at this point, but what else was there to lose?)

 

 **anime dude**  
oH i see

sorry for assuming (*´꒳`*)

i have this habit of overthinking haha

 

 **Hyungwon**  
So... my question?

 

 **anime dude**  
right right

yes i’m still up for later!!!! c: what do u have planned i’m so excited

like i’m actually shaking i am THAT excited

pls tell me

 

 **Hyungwon**  
Find out yourself.

 

 **anime dude**  
whAt

no!! (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾ i demand to know NOW

or else u aren’t getting ur surprise! and u wouldn’t want that right

 

 **Hyungwon**  
What the fuck, I thought we were done with surprises.

 

 **anime dude**  
heh well.....

we might be.... because i’m actually not sure whether i wanna push thru w this surprise or not

idk

maybe i won’t

 

Hyungwon decides to brush that aside. He ends the conversation telling Minhyuk where they would meet.

 

 **Hyungwon**  
Convention entrance at 4PM.

 

 **anime dude**  
i’ll be there!  <3

AND DON’T FORGET UR COSPLAY!!!!!

 

He pockets his phone, heading for the second to the last class of this school day.

He wishes time would fly faster, but not because he wanted to see Minhyuk sooner.

( _Definitely_ because he wanted to see Minhyuk sooner.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, the title of this chapter is based on [this](http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/is-this-a-pigeon) meme, and it subtly references the part where hyungwon's dirty ass seriously thought minhyuk was a maid


	4. you can (not) fall in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK I WAS GOING TO WAIT UNTIL AFTER MY SISTER READ THIS TO POST THIS CHAPTER BUT I WAS TOO EXCITEDJDHSH HOLY FUCK I CANT EVEN BREATHE PROPERLY
> 
> [coughs] anyway. just a heads up! you might wanna take breaks in between reading this chapter because it’s kind of around 18k words long :D i do hope you make it to the end!
> 
> ALSO! if you don’t mind having music in the background while you read, listen to //[THIS](https://youtu.be/zsVAbS8xmaU)// when you get to this line (“ _Hyungwon feels awkward all of a sudden, staring at the other like a fool as he bathed in the warm light..._ ”)!!! it’s animenz’ your lie in april op piano arrangement and it just fits SO WELL HAVE IT ON REPEAT UNTIL THE END!
> 
> the character minhyuk [cosplays](http://25.media.tumblr.com/d3fca11aa9fb198fbe7ff1608b8da5e6/tumblr_mvyi5nuaEI1slvqiko1_500.gif) in this one is [kaworu](http://31.media.tumblr.com/81e4855a278a1a976d67a57376778e1c/tumblr_mvumv04UWj1slvqiko1_500.gif) from evangelion, in case you don’t know who [he](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/evangelion/images/2/23/3.0_Kaworu_Nagisa.png/revision/latest?cb=20121118042417) is! (he gets three links bc he’s special)
> 
> as always, thank you to everyone who left kudos & comments under the last chapter! you all keep me going! <3 happy reading!

Hyungwon could pinpoint many instances in his life wherein he felt like a complete fool, but _none_ of them—be they great or small—could _ever_ compare to the sheer embarrassment he felt in this very moment, standing in front of the doors to the convention in what he deemed was a sorry excuse for a cosplay.

See, like every bad thing that had happened to him the past few days (such as the brand new occurrence of butterflies fluttering in his stomach every time that insufferable boy so much as directed a smile him, and the feeling of said stomach plummeting every time the other’s hand brushed against his when they walked around together), he blamed his unfortunate situation _entirely_ on Minhyuk, who had told him to come in full costume.

It wasn’t like anyone was _staring_ at him or even giving him their time of day, but he still felt as if the last few remnants of his dignity had been thrown out the window and whisked away by the wind.

In all honesty, he didn’t even have to agree to doing it, it was _his_ choice after all—but the very annoying part of his mind had thought that maybe it would make Minhyuk happy. ( _Happy_ in the sense that he was going to laugh because his “cosplay” sucked ass.)

The character Hyungwon had tried (emphasis on _tried_ ) to dress up as was some sort of humanized _Monokuma_ from the _Danganronpa_ game series. It didn’t really matter who he was trying to go for anymore, because instead of looking like a cool evil overlord, he ended up looking as if he had just jumped in his closet and thrown on whatever black and/or white thing he saw. (Which was _kind_ of exactly what he did, but that is extremely irrelevant information.)

He had meant to dress up as the harbinger of despair, but instead he had ended up _becoming_ the harbinger of despair, given his utter _disaster_ of an outfit. What a joke.

He was wearing two jackets at the same time, one black and one white, with one sleeve per arm; it was meant to mimic Monokuma’s body, but he really just ended up looking like an open invitation for anyone to kick him.

His pants were just as tragic too—he had worn white jeans and just pulled a single black stocking (which he had stolen from his mother’s closet) over one leg. He had thought himself a genius when he had come up with the idea, but now he was severely regretting it.

Of course, the final and most essential touch to his failed cosplay was the bear ear headband, but he hadn’t put it on yet because he _thankfully_ still had at least a pinch of dignity left.

Over-all, Hyungwon could conclude that if he had not yet hit rock bottom in the moment when he had started investing in anime merchandise, then he most definitely had now.

Just when he is about to curse the absence of the most prominent annoyance in his life, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He has to dig under the stocking to get to his pocket, though—yet another low point in his life.

 

 **anime dude**  
IM HERE!!!! where r u :O

 **Hyungwon**  
I’m here at the entrance.

 **anime dude**  
what

i am..... also @ the entrance..... the fuk

 **Hyungwon**  
Then you should see me. You know how I look like.

 **anime dude**  
ye i know but like,, i rlly don’t see u here

the only person i see not moving or anything is this dude wearing two jackets at the same time lmao

wtf…. is that...... a stocking.......

OMG IM YELLINGHSHAHAH

I HAVE TO SUBMIT THIS TO THST UGLIEST COSPLAYS BLOG ON TUMBLR THIS IS MY CLAIM 2 FAME

HE ACTUALLY KINDA LOOKS LIKE U I CANT BR EATHE

COSPLAY POLICE!!!!!!!! WEEEE WOOOO WEEE WOOO

 **Hyungwon**  
That’s me.

 **anime dude**  
........

ah

 

The next thing he feels after embarrassment and shame is a light tap on his shoulder.

“Hyungwonnie?”

He turns around and prays to _any_ and _every_ god witnessing this moment that, for the sake of his own weak heart, Minhyuk wouldn’t outdo himself with a cosplay better than what he had done the past two days—

—only to have the truth slap him in the face that not a single one of his prayers had been answered, because of _course_ , Minhyuk had to fucking one-up himself.

It isn’t the most extravagant of cosplays; in fact, it‘s the simplest one he had done so far, compared to his Tomoe and his Logy—but this particular one is what strikes every single chord in Hyungwon’s heart the most; this is what makes the same feelings that had been slowly developing over the past few days increase tenfold both in number and size.

The fucker was dressed up as _Kaworu Nagisa_ , the ultimate galactic white-haired babe.

He looked every bit angelic in his white polo, which was unbuttoned to an extent to reveal a purple undershirt, both of which he had tucked loosely into his black slacks. Secured around his neck was the black choker the character had worn in the third reboot movie; it looked very genuine, although uncomfortable, but Minhyuk didn’t seem to mind.

Hyungwon, however, _did_ mind a whole lot—because goddammit, he could _swear_ Minhyuk had done such a thing as dress up as one of the white-haired anime characters in his fictional crush list on purpose. This was extremely bad for his heart, and he desperately wanted the floor beneath him to open up and swallow him whole before he spouted nonsense such as how handsome Minhyuk looked today. He had long since given up on his uber.

 _How wonderful_ , he thinks grimly to himself, _I’m twenty times gayer than yesterday._

He gulps, then struggles to speak over the loud pounding of his heart. “So. You watch…?” He gestures vaguely to Minhyuk’s costume, unable to find the ability to finish his sentence.

“What, Evangelion? Of course,” Minhyuk’s beam turns into a deep frown. “When will you stop thinking I only like the generic shows? I’ll have you know my MAL is _filled_.”

 _Finally_ , information he could twist to bully Minhyuk and slow his descent into the _developing feelings_ pit. “Maybe your ‘ _dropped anime_ ’ section, sure.” He teases, lips curving into a smirk.

Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna send you a link later, we’ll see if you’ll still be saying that,” he mutters, then the wide grin is back on his face, “so, moving on to more important things! I look good, don’t I?” He waggles his eyebrows.

_UNBELIEVABLY SO._

“You look... eh.”

“It’s alright,” the other begins, chuckling knowingly, “you must be so taken aback by my otherworldly beauty—words are failing you. Thanks!” Hyungwon scans his expression for any signs of sarcasm, but finds nothing. Minhyuk seemed to be genuinely happy about the response. “And _you_ look... you look—“

He cuts himself off with what starts out as silent laughter, his shoulders trembling from the effort to contain it, with the occasional squeaks and wheezes leaving his lips.

Hyungwon splutters. “What the _fuck_ —“

Minhyuk’s laugh progresses until it’s loud enough to draw everyone’s attention, its pitch higher than that of Hoseok’s shrill screams when he spots lizards zooming around on walls. He ends up doubled over, clutching his stomach as he cackles endlessly. Hyungwon wants to crawl in a hole and rot.

“I c-can’t _breathe_ ,” he wheezes in between fits of laughter, “fuck, oh my god, this is so tragic, excuse me—“

The motherfucker turns around just to laugh even _louder_. People walking by start looking at them weirdly, and Hyungwon considers the fact that maybe it would be less embarrassing if he were to just go around naked. He could just say he was cosplaying _Gray Fullbuster_ from _Fairy Tail_ , minus the eight-pack abs.

“I already _told_ you, I don’t cosplay!” Hyungwon hisses. He subconsciously pulls the jackets tighter around him. “It’s _your_ fault for telling me to come in costume!”

“I didn’t think you’d actually _do it_ ,” he wheezes, “and who are you supposed to be anyway?”

Hyungwon’s ears redden. “Monokuma.” He mumbles.

Minhyuk starts laughing uncontrollably once again. The level of Hyungwon’s developing feelings almost drops back down to zero (key word: _almost_ ).

“Stop it!”

“Oh my god, this is too good.“ Minhyuk whispers through giggles, wipes tears away from the corners of his eyes.

“Maybe if I had more time to prepare, I would have looked better.” Hyungwon grumbles bitterly.

“It’s okay,” Minhyuk beams, _clearly_ holding back another laughing fit. Hyungwon wants to throw one of his jackets over the other’s head. “You’re very handsome, so that makes up for your… outfit.”

A bright shade of red dusts Hyungwon’s cheeks. “P- _please_.”

“I’m serious, Hyungwonnie! You have a really nice face. Like…” He seems to realize the context of what he was saying, because his cheeks suddenly turn a color similar to Hyungwon’s and his voice thins. “It’s, um, nice to look at.”

Hyungwon doesn’t know what to say (he was not at all accustomed to receiving compliments, much less from a mega hottie like Minhyuk, which you _definitely_ did not hear from _him_ , okay), so his face does all the talking. He could practically hear the quick rush of blood in his ears as they turn a vibrant shade of red; his lips quiver as he tries to find the right words to say, which is preferably not something along the lines of: “ _Thanks_ , your _face is nice to look at too_.”

When he watches Minhyuk quietly hide his face in his hands, smiling into them bashfully with that _adorable_ beam of his that Hyungwon would never for the life of him admit was adorable out loud, he realizes that he had accidentally voiced out his thoughts without meaning to.

_Well, shit._

He panics internally, hands sweating. _Salvage the situation, Hyungwon!_

“Uh. The r-rest of you is really nice to look at too.”

_WELL, SHIT._

He facepalms, three slaps so audible you would probably be able to hear them from the other side of the convention if you listened hard enough. That was merely an ant bite compared to his inner (gay) panic, which could only be described as extremely similar to that episode of Spongebob wherein tiny versions of him were running around in his brain, file cabinets on fire.

Minhyuk tries to hide his face further, hands trembling. Hyungwon, on the other hand, wants to hide in a hole, where he would tremble in embarrassment and shame.

He might as well just keep his mouth shut for the rest of eternity— _nothing_ was ever going to embarrass him more than what he had previously said. He makes a mental note to contact Kihyun later about his offer to buy his silence.

Minhyuk thankfully doesn’t bring it up. He looks up to grin brightly at Hyungwon, and teases, “so is a less than amateur cosplay all it takes for you to profess your undying love for me and my body?”

Hyungwon chokes. This was going downhill really quick.

“F-first of all, _where_ in my earlier statement did I profess my, quote, _undying love for you and your body_?” He questions incredulously, disregarding the giddy feeling that had just started developing in his chest (perhaps a side effect of his entire face going red). “And secondly, _please_ stop bringing up my costume. I’m painfully aware that it’s ugly, thank you very much.”

Minhyuk chuckles. “I really don’t know why you’re worrying. Everyone starts from somewhere.”

“Yeah, but that _somewhere_ where everyone starts is probably a toy store version of Superman’s suit. And at least that doesn’t make you look too lame.”

“Pfft. Stop being so dramatic,” the other scolds playfully, “have I ever told you what my first cosplay was?”

“Never wanted to know.”

“It was back in kindergarten.” He boasts anyway, beaming. “I was a _pokéball_!”

Hyungwon’s mind suddenly conjures an image of a baby Minhyuk struggling to walk around in a pokéball costume; then as if that wasn’t bad enough for his heart, he imagines that same baby Minhyuk bumping into various pieces of furniture and, god forbid, _giggling_.

He clenches his teeth as he suppresses the urge to coo, just because he was petty and didn’t want to inflate Minhyuk’s ego.

“Here! I found a pic!” Minhyuk squeals, shoving his phone under Hyungwon’s nose.

The photo was of a baby Minhyuk standing in front of a wall covered completely in drawings and perfected quizzes—’ _best works_ ’, a sign above the organized mess stated. (Yes, that’s something he can agree on. Minhyuk was _definitely_ a best work.)

He was honestly more of a puffball than a pokéball despite his costume being accurate—his hair was sticking out in every direction imaginable, and he had the exact same wide smile present on his face. His arms extended out of the armholes in excitement, hands splayed out, one of which held a Pikachu stuffed toy. If anything, the baby was a _ball of energy_ , not a pokéball.

“This is...” Hyungwon begins with a strained voice. “This is... too _adorable_...”

Minhyuk slides to the next picture, and Hyungwon feels like he’s about to spontaneously combust and maybe cry his eyes out because it’s one of baby pokéball Minhyuk trying to blend in with his surroundings in a _ball pit_.

He tries his best to will the squeal he _knew_ was rising up his throat back down, lest he open his mouth and release all the, for lack of better terms, ‘ _uwu_ ’.

“Stop this.” He squeaks weakly.

It only takes a quick glance at Hyungwon’s costume for Minhyuk to lose it _again_.

“Okay, look, I tried to be nice, but this—this isn’t working out,” he wheezes, “my pokéball is nowhere near as tragic as your… your… c- _cos_ —”

He guffaws, slapping his thigh repeatedly. Hyungwon feels like utter shit.

“Drop it!”

Minhyuk sticks his tongue out. “You’re just jealous I was cute even as a child.”

“Am not!”

“Denial is the first stage.” The other singsongs.

“You are absolutely _infuriating_.” Hyungwon growls.

Minhyuk ignores the half-hearted insult. “God, my side hurts.” He manages to pant out, giggling. “I think I busted a lung.”

“Well. At least I made you happy. I guess.” He grumbles, then blushes furiously when he realizes that what he had said wasn’t exactly something you’d say to an acquaintance you were trying your hardest _not_ to develop feelings for. He tries to make it a bit more edgy, “uh. It’s, like, whatever.”

Minhyuk smiles so wide his eyes become crescents on his face. “That’s all you’ve been doing to me this week.”

 _Ah_.

While Hyungwon felt as if his heart would leap out of his ribcage any second now, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the weird feeling in his stomach—this time, not because Minhyuk had directed that smile at him, or because his hand had brushed against his in a gesture that seemed to suggest that he had wanted to hold Hyungwon’s hand to lead him inside (he didn’t, and he felt disappointed), but because of the guilt that gnawed at him as early as now at the thought of what their future would be.

He heaves a sigh, though it isn’t enough to release every negative feeling he had. He walks past Minhyuk and takes the lead.

He could only hope that fulfilling his sugar dude friend tendencies would take his mind off things.

 

 

The first thing Hyungwon had planned for today was something he was extremely excited for—both because he was finally going to be able to spoil Minhyuk, and because the idea of becoming a sugar dude friend and fulfilling said sugar dude friend desires was actually kind of interesting. (Not that Minhyuk ever has to know that _that_ was his objective.)

He sets his plan into motion by walking just a bit ahead of Minhyuk. Instead of keeping on their usual path leading to the heart of the convention, however, he pivots on his heel to make for the staircase at the side.

It does not take long for him to hear the other rushing to follow him, clearly confused and reluctant.

“Uh, Hyungwon? The convention is this way.” He says slowly, pointing to the opposite direction.

“I know.”

Minhyuk makes a face. “So why are we going this wa—“

He sees the other’s expression shift when they get close enough to the staircase to see the sign plastered on the wall. _Auctions_ , it read. Hyungwon rubs his hands together in excitement, snickering.

Minhyuk’s face pales. “Au- _auctions_? Aren’t those the events where people bid for figurines?”

“Correct.”

“ _Hyungwon_ ,” the other whispers, tugging on Hyungwon’s sleeve, “I feel too poor to even _look_ at those figurines.”

“I’ll look at them for you, then,” he replies calmly, shrugging, “I’ll say the characters and describe how they look like, you can just tell me which one you want.”

Minhyuk chokes audibly. He looks at Hyungwon incredulously, wide eyes looking like they would bug out of his head any second. “No, you can’t,” he begins shakily, “you have to be _joking_ —“

“Does it look like I’m joking?” Hyungwon deadpans.

The other makes a noise, a mix between a whine and a squeak. “I only gave you a lousy discount coupon... hell, I didn’t even buy the _Cloud_ for you—that’s nothing compared to something as expensive as this.” He argues, despite continuing to follow Hyungwon upstairs. He shakes his head. “No. This is too much.”

“He says as he follows me to the auction hall like an obedient puppy.”

“I’m a gentleman, Hyungwonnie. It wouldn’t be proper of me to abandon my fake boyfriend in a fake date.”

“What’s that I smell?” Hyungwon sniffs the air. “Ah, of course. It’s the scent of _shitty excuses_.”

Minhyuk runs a hand through his hair in distress. Hyungwon looks away before his heart could pull any other gymnastics stunts. (He apparently has a thing for foreheads, and Minhyuk’s forehead when it peeks through his white bangs is a treasure second to none.)

  
“When I said I’d apply to be your sugar baby, I didn’t mean it _literally_.” Minhyuk mumbles quietly.

“I approved your application anyway.” He replies.

It is only when Minhyuk looks at him—like really _looks at him_ —that he realizes that the comment wasn’t meant for him to hear at all. Replying to it somehow painted Hyungwon as eager.

Too eager.

_Ha-ha, fuck._

“Oh, _look_!” He uses the fact that they had already arrived at the auction hall as a means to save his crumbling pride. “We’re here.”

  
They both come to a stop at the open entrance. Much to their surprise, the room was _filled_ ; people were milling around—some to simply admire the figurines, and many others actually making bids. Hyungwon thinks about the heavy wallet in his pocket, and smirks at the thought that he was about to wreck them all.

The area had been divided into different sections, each displaying a certain figurine mounted on a pedestal, all of which were either as expensive as their tuition or so limited in stock that they only sold ten of them in the entire country.

Minhyuk looked like he was about to pee his pants any second. Hyungwon felt ecstatic.

“Let’s get a move on now, shall we?” He offers a hand for Minhyuk to take.

Minhyuk only looks at it, cheeks slowly turning red. When Hyungwon realizes just what he was asking for, his ears heat up as he tries to pull an explanation out of his ass. (A better term would be an excuse to get to hold his hand.)

“U-uh, this is just so that we don’t get separated or anything,” he adds quickly.

Minhyuk takes it reluctantly, intertwining his fingers with Hyungwon’s. “You didn’t need to explain—I was going to hold it anyway.” He whispers, looking away.

It takes everything in Hyungwon not to scream, his hand shaking slightly in Minhyuk’s. He stops himself from acknowledging that small part of his brain supplying the thought that his hand felt right in the other’s.

This was absolutely Minhyuk’s fault, it’s because of him that Hyungwon has been stopping by his local bookstore and buying one too many shoujo mangas lately.

They walk into the hall hand-in-hand. Minhyuk’s eyes shine as he takes in all the figurines he couldn’t ever dream of affording. Hyungwon starts feeling like a doting boyfriend instead of a sugar dude friend.

He is casually admiring a quite flattering (shirtless) Sasuke figurine when he feels Minhyuk tug at his hand urgently. “Oh my god, Hyungwon, look at that!”

“Huh?” He directs his attention to where the other was pointing. At the center of the crowd, standing on a pedestal, was a figurine he recognized to be the _12-inch Kabuki Luffy_. Instead of the usual unbuttoned red shirt, the character donned a crimson kimono, the intense expression on his face accentuated by the face paint. Tied around his waist was a thick piece of cloth that secured two swords.

It looked _majestic_ , absolutely stunning, he understood Minhyuk’s sentiments exactly.

“Wait, sorry, you’re one of the edgy weebs, you probably don’t even watch One Piece—“

Hyungwon gapes at him. “Are you kidding, I _love_ One Piece.”

Minhyuk beams brightly. “You do?”

“Yeah!” Hyungwon exclaims, laughing disbelievingly. For once, they were actually _agreeing_ on something. “I didn’t think _you_ watched it. You don’t seem like the eight hundred episodes type.”

  
It was true. With the way Minhyuk acted, it was merely natural for him to think that he only had the attention span to watch two and a half episodes at most.

“I finished the entire Naruto Shippuden series in a week, I can handle One Piece.” Minhyuk points out.

Hyungwon almost shrieks like a banshee. He squeezes Minhyuk’s hand excitedly. “You watched _NARUTO_?”

Minhyuk nods enthusiastically, grinning.

“But… but you said Naruto was stupid two days ago—“

“I was kidding, I only did that to get you to confess.” Minhyuk laughs. “How do you think I know what happened in episode 246?”

His mouth drops open.

“I mean, it was years ago, but I still remember a lot of it—“ The other continues, almost rambling.

He suddenly takes Minhyuk’s other hand in his as well, looking him straight in the eye. “Marry me.” He says, a serious expression on his face. “We will live in solitude among the stars or on a distant island and discuss Naruto for the rest of our lives—“

“Get me that figurine first, then we’ll talk.” Minhyuk commands jokingly, cheeks heating up.

Blinded by this temporary truce brought upon them by their mutual adoration for Hyungwon’s most favorite show, he is motivated to pull Minhyuk through the crowd. He notices that most of the people weren’t even _bidding_ —a single guy stood next to the figurine, smirking smugly as no one dared place a price higher than what he had offered.

Hyungwon was about to wipe that smirk right off his face with his riches.

On the other side of the figurine was the person facilitating the auction; he had a microphone in hand and was scanning the crowd for anyone else who would speak up.

“Can anyone top three hundred dollars?” He says into the microphone. Silence follows.

“Going once...”

The guy’s smile widens as he takes the money out of his wallet, slamming it on the table positioned in front of the pedestal.

“Going twice… _aaaand_ —”

Hyungwon clears his throat audibly, raising his free hand with all the nonchalance he could muster—because, seriously, _three hundred_? For a figurine as rare as _this_?

Don’t make him laugh.

“We have a new bidder!” The man exclaims into the microphone.

The crowd gasps, and separates to make way for him.

He lets go of Minhyuk’s hand and walks to the center, coming to a stop right across the guy who had bid three hundred dollars.

The guy laughs. Hyungwon bets with his entire life that it’s probably because he looked like a fool who couldn’t even afford a regular-sized drink at McDonald’s.

“Are you kidding me? This is hardly a _challenge_.” The other spits, laughing incredulously.

 _How about I rip your fucking face off_ — “We’ll see about that.” Hyungwon replies simply.

The guy raises an eyebrow, slightly taken aback. “Feisty.”

“Three-fifty.” He says simply, taking the said bills out of his wallet and placing them gently on the table. He was going to play along first.

“Please, is that all you’ve got?” His opponent questions, chortling. He slams another bill on the table. “Four hundred.”

Hyungwon yawns. “Four-fifty.”

“Five hundred.”

“Six hundred.”

The man starts sweating. “S-seven hundred.”

“Seven-fifty.”

“ _Eight hundred_.”

“Eight hundred and ten.”

The other seems to take the added ten as a sign that Hyungwon was beginning to lose money. He wipes the sweat off his forehead, a grin appearing on his face again.

“Oh, well. You were brave, I’ll give you that,” he tells Hyungwon. He slams a few more bills on the table. “ _One thousand_.”

Another wave of gasps. Minhyuk’s eyes go wide comically. Hyungwon gives him a reassuring thumbs up, then turns back to the man.

The facilitator clears his throat. “One thousand dollars. Going once… going twice—“

“One thousand five hundred!” Hyungwon exclaims.

The man is taken aback. “W-what— _five_ thousand.” He stammers, taking every remaining bill out of his wallet.

But it was too late, Hyungwon had already won.

He smirks, and calmly takes out a thick wad of cash. He slams it on the table with finality.

“ _Ten thousand_.”

The crowd goes _ballistic_. The facilitator drops his microphone. His opponent suddenly looks like he’s about to faint—Minhyuk looks like he isn’t too far behind.

“T-ten thousand dollars,” the facilitator says once he’s gathered enough strength to pick the microphone up.

Nobody speaks up.

“Sold!” He exclaims.

Hyungwon feels like he’s just won the lottery despite him being the one to lose such a huge amount of money. The crowd was applauding him for some actual reason, and the other man was shakily collecting all his bills—but Minhyuk still stood stunned, not knowing how to react.

He waits for the figurine to be placed in the box it had previously been packaged in before taking it from the facilitator. The crowd had already dispersed—the only one left standing where everyone had been was Minhyuk, who was still staring at the box in his arms in shock and disbelief. Hyungwon proudly hands him the figurine.

“I owe you my _soul_.” He squeaks, cradling the box as if it were a priceless artifact.

“Your hand in marriage is enough,” Hyungwon jokes.

Minhyuk blushes, but shakes his head disbelievingly. “I won’t even fight. I’m too shocked. You can have my firstborn too while you’re at it.”

“Sweet. What should we name them?”

“ _Shoyo Sasuke_. Named after two of the most powerful men I know.”

Hyungwon laughs. A fond smile crosses Minhyuk’s face.

“This is the one of the only things I had planned, honestly,” Hyungwon confesses.

The other snorts. “I don’t know why I’m not surprised it involves money.”

He rolls his eyes. “You decide what to do next.”

Minhyuk’s eyes gleam, and an impish grin replaces the shy smile. He takes Hyungwon’s hand and marches onward, the other arm still carefully carrying the figurine.

“This way!”

 

 

“Sh-shoujo—“

Hyungwon simply stares at the sign of the booth in shock. They have been in line for a couple of minutes now—and were even getting their turn in a while—but the idea of actually _going in_ still doesn’t hit him. Never did he think he was going to get the chance to experience the shoujo booth, much less with _Minhyuk_.

He doesn’t say that, though—he has an image to uphold.

“Shoujo is f-for losers.” He insults weakly.

Minhyuk beams. “Well, we’re both losers, so that explains a lot!”

Hyungwon gapes at him. The audacity of this one.

“You know, it’s never too late to back out.” He says anyway, eyes shaking.

“Pfft. Please, anyone with common sense can see that this is what you really want.” Minhyuk scoffs.

“False. I actually—“

“Hyungwon, your heart...” He interrupts, letting go of his hand in order to place it over the right side of Hyungwon’s chest. Something is obviously wrong, because Minhyuk looks up in horror. “What the—why can’t I feel anything?”

Hyungwon rolls his eyes. “That’s because you’re on the _wrong side_ , dumbass.” He guides Minhyuk’s hand over to where his heart was. He could only hope that he doesn’t bring up or pay any mind to how fast it was beating.

“Okay, take two. Ahem,” Minhyuk chuckles, then collects himself. “Your heart, Hyungwon… listen to it.”

“Hearts can’t talk.”

“ _Shh_...” Minhyuk puts his index finger over Hyungwon’s lips, effectively shushing him. “Listen closely. What is your heart saying?”

He leans in quickly to yell “ _YES!_ ” into Hyungwon’s ear, but is back to his solemn look from earlier in the blink of an eye, as if he hadn’t just destroyed Hyungwon’s eardrum.

He clutches his ear, wincing. “I hate you.”

“Your heart must say otherwise about that too.”

He looks at Hyungwon and winks. He couldn’t fight the blush that threatened to overcome his cheeks, so all he does to ease the situation is force Minhyuk’s hand away from his chest before he comments on the fact that it was thumping twenty times faster than half a minute ago.

“It’s never too late to back out.” He repeats shakily.

“It _is_ too late to back out!”

He jumps at the sudden voice. They turn to face a girl standing in front of the entrance to the booth, whose smile was so wide it _had_ to hurt her face. She was wearing the usual schoolgirl outfit, a uniform set paired with a blazer and a tie, complete with the typical Protagonist’s Friend Number Two hairstyle.

“Welcome to the shoujo booth!” She exclaims, hands on her hips. “Worry not, the name does not limit our target customers to just a guy and a girl—it also doubles as a shounen and shoujo ai booth! None of that yaoi stuff, though, please keep everything you see inside _clean_.”

Hyungwon suppresses the urge to drop to his knees slowly and facepalm in embarrassment. Minhyuk seems to show the opposite reaction—the boy was nodding his head excitedly.

“As you might already know, this is a photo booth allowing you to experience a romantic reality, meaning your pictures will be taken in every section. You can choose to purchase the photos at the claiming counter after you exit. Be sure to take this seriously, so your photos come out nice!”

“Christ Almighty,” Hyungwon mutters under his breath.

“Would you like to avail of the love rival at section D?”

Hyungwon frowns. “Uh, no.”

“What about the childhood friend?”

“No?”

“Friend C?”

“No.”

“Ex?”

“ _No_.”

“A harem of six boys?”

“What the _fuck_ —“

“We’re fine by ourselves, thank you.” Minhyuk says, chuckling.

“Alright!” She exclaims. “We also offer the option of changing into our custom school uniforms, which I, uh,”—she scans Hyungwon from head to toe, lips pursed—“which I _highly_ recommend.”

He hugs himself self-consciously. “Okay, fine.”

“Great! Follow me and get changed! You can also leave your belongings at the claiming counter.”

She leads Hyungwon to a changing room, where he finds clothing racks filled with different types of uniforms. He changes quickly into one that looks similar to Minhyuk’s, then drops his clothes off at the claiming counter.

Minhyuk is already waiting for him by the entrance by the time he’s done. He grins when he sees his costume, holding his hand out for Hyungwon to take. “Well, don’t you look dashing.”

Hyungwon snorts as he slides his hand into the other’s, rubbing a reddening ear with his free hand. “Who are you—my grandma?”

“Goodness gracious, my _boy_ , you look exactly like my husband back when he was younger,” he plays along, taking on the voice of a cartoonish grandparent, “so _handsome_. The most handsome man I have ever laid my eyes on.”

Hyungwon feels as if his head was about to explode, given how red his face had become. “Shut up.”

Minhyuk laughs breathlessly, then takes Hyungwon by surprise when he suddenly pulls him closer by the hand to lean in and whisper softly into his ear.

“I meant it.”

His breath sends shivers down Hyungwon’s spine, and he’s absolutely positively _sure_ he had produced an inhuman noise, because Minhyuk laughs again before he pulls away.

“We mustn’t be late, dear sir.” The other says, faking a gentlemanly tone. He tugs at Hyungwon’s hand. “Let’s roll.”

 

The first section they find themselves in is a small classroom. There are only two seats—one by the window and the other right behind it. The view outside the window is provided by an LED screen, which looked too perfect to be real. The generic cherry blossom petals flew by in the background, and the artificial sun was shining extremely brightly. A camera was attached to the wall opposite the seats.

Minhyuk runs to the desk behind the first one.

“You be the cool guy,” he instructs Hyungwon giddily, pointing to the first seat, “look out the window with those earphones on.”

Hyungwon hadn’t even noticed the earphones on the desk. “This is so unrealistic and fake emo. Shoujo _sucks_ ,” He heaves a big sigh as he sits down, acting as if he hadn’t read a couple of mangas of that genre in the past two days. “And I’ll do whatever I want. That’s the least you could allow me to do for dragging me here.”

He looks around frantically for something else to do. He gives up on his search when he realizes that there was really nothing else in the room other than two chairs and a pair of earphones. He sighs once more—even louder this time, just so his exasperation was made obvious—then grumpily plugs the earphones in his ears.

“Not a single word.” He mutters threateningly.

He hears a wheeze. He turns his head slightly, eyes narrowed in feigned annoyance, to tell him something along the lines of “ _shut it_ ”. Instead, he holds his breath when he catches a glimpse of the crinkles that appear by the other’s eyes when he laughs. Minhyuk covers his mouth shyly.

He settles for an almost incoherent: “What is it?”

Minhyuk shrugs, his eyes becoming crescents above his hands. “You’re so _cute_.” He murmurs softly under his breath, muffled by his palms, which Hyungwon was only able to hear because he had been listening hard enough. If you listened _even harder_ , you’d hear the Kill Bill sirens going off in Hyungwon’s head too.

He laughs quietly again, and Hyungwon feels as if a shit ton of bricks had been dropped on his chest all in one go, because he couldn’t _breathe_ all of a sudden, and not to be dramatic or fake deep or anything, but the way the artificial light emitted by the LED screen currently bathed Minhyuk’s exuberant expression was acting as a merciless catalyst to the imminent failure of his respiratory system. And maybe his other systems too. His _whole_ system.

He doesn’t know how to identify this feeling—in fact, no words would be able to accurately describe it. The only thing he’s certain about is that it has been sitting and steadily growing in his chest for the past few days, and that he’s probably better off not figuring it out.

He tears his eyes away before the feeling worsens, the now familiar heat crossing his cheeks. He tries to hide it as best he could by resting his chin on his left hand and turning his head towards the window—which he soon realizes was a huge mistake, because his eyes start aching as soon as they’re met with the blinding light.

“ _Agh_ —!”

_Goddamn, how does Minhyuk always manage to make it look like he was born to bask in the light?_

Minhyuk _loses his shit_ ; he slams his hand against the table repeatedly as he cackles. “What the heck was _that_?”

Truthfully, Hyungwon would have done it too if he were in Minhyuk’s shoes, because that might have just been the most idiotic thing he has ever pulled.

He stands abruptly and positions himself on his chair in such a way that his chest leaned against the backrest. “Listen here, you—“

He trails off when he sees the look of unabashed glee on Minhyuk’s face. And, alright, with how loud Minhyuk’s laugh was, and how utterly _happy_ he looked, how could you _not_ expect Hyungwon to do something as stupid as heave a soft sigh and smile fondly?

They hear the distant click of the camera as it takes their photo without warning.

He winces. _God_ , he hopes the camera took the photo before he acted like a lovesick fool.

(Not that he _was_ a lovesick fool. Definitely not.)

 

When they make their way into the second room and see what it has in store for them, Hyungwon is not surprised at the very least.

It was not at all related to the classroom. Instead of what they expected would be a school hallway, they find themselves in an aquarium—the generic shoujo first date spot. The LED screens behind the glass now showcased fish of different kinds and colors.

What makes it worse is the fact that the tiny “fish” were swimming in such a way that they formed a heart right in the center of the aquarium.

Hyungwon scrunches his nose in disgust.

Minhyuk catches his expression. He punches Hyungwon’s arm lightly. “What’s the matter this time, you big oaf.”

“This is so tacky. I can’t believe people actually enjoy this.”

Minhyuk snickers. “You’re so _shameless_ , will anything ever please you?”

“Perhaps the exit would.”

“Well, we’re never gonna get there with _that_ attitude, mister. Come on,” the other tugs on his hand excitedly, “let’s pretend to admire the fish.”

When they come to a stop in front of the fish-heart display, Minhyuk does a good job of pretending he’s interested in the aquarium, pointing at the fish with a shocked expression on his face that kind of made him look like a stock photo.

Hyungwon stifles a laugh. “Your expression is so fake.”

Minhyuk makes an indignant noise. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“You looked stupid.”

“I was acting natural!”

“I guess you’re naturally stupid then.”

Minhyuk narrows his eyes at him and lowers his voice. “If this were real, I would have fed you to the piranhas and broken up with you already.”

“Not if _I_ would do it first.”

“You have the physical abilities of a twig.”

Hyungwon snorts. “Even a twig could act better than you.”

The other gasps, appalled. “I’d like to see _you_ do better then, you... you _beanpole_!”

“Challenge accepted.” He says, turning to the glass. He has no idea why he agreed to it, seeing as he had no clue what to do, but he does the first thing that comes to mind.

He presses his palms against his cheeks and gapes at the fish. He was aiming to look cute, but he probably ended up looking more like a bootleg of _The Scream_.

Minhyuk’s fake angry exterior breaks, and he starts cackling loudly. “What—are you trying to be one of the _fish_?”

He does not let the other know of his failed plan. “What if I am?” He then opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, trying to make a point.

“Oh my god,” Minhyuk giggles, slapping Hyungwon’s shoulder lightly. “No, stop being so _cute_ , I can’t—” He wheezes out, burying his face in his hands.

Hyungwon freezes, looking every bit idiotic mid-fish imitation.

 _Oh_.

_There it is._

It‘s a harmless compliment, really—and it’s the second time the other has called him cute in the past fifteen minutes—but it feels as if Hyungwon’s heart had been viciously ripped out of his chest and was being juggled by Minhyuk, which scared him _greatly_ , because if there was one thing the mistake of making Minhyuk promise not to tell anyone about his deepest, darkest secret (a promise the other had broken in less than twenty four hours) had taught him, it was to not trust the cosplayer with _anything_.

Most _especially_ his heart.

So why in the _world_ did he currently feel as if he was about to make the most idiotic decision of his life by handing it over without question, to someone who was probably the shittiest juggler in existence?

Actually, he has been making one idiotic decision after the other the past few days, it was extremely unbecoming of him—first, he had given in to the other’s charms and forgotten his anger at having the figurine of his dreams stolen from right under his very nose; next, he had agreed to being his fake boyfriend for the sake of a fucking _discount_ on ice cream; and if _that_ hadn’t been the worst of it, he had begrudgingly agreed to entering the shoujo booth with him only for him to be attacked by his unidentifiable feelings!

He _knows_ he should feel anger course through his veins, but he couldn’t help acknowledging the fear at the thought that his heart was going to fall at any given moment, because Minhyuk was—now that he thought about it— _definitely_ a shit juggler who would choose to perform his tricks whilst unicycling on a tightrope, and would therefore drop his heart after one throw.

He pictures himself falling _hard_ , and _fast_ —but in this situation, there seems to be no ground underneath to catch him, only an endless pit.

He had to do something about it, lest he met the unfortunate fate of falling too deep.

“Can you... _stop_ …” Hyungwon manages to wheeze weakly, rubbing his hands against his cheeks in a desperate attempt to drive the redness away.

 _Stop threatening to make me fall_ , he doesn’t finish.

Minhyuk raises an eyebrow teasingly. His smile seems to widen, even though that should have been impossible seeing as he was practically exuding all the radiance of a supernova. “Me? I thought I told _you_ to stop.”

“No, stop… stop calling me _cute_.” Hyungwon exhales, although his attempt at willing the blush away was proving to be unsuccessful.

“Why should I?” Minhyuk questions almost tauntingly. “Give me one good reason.”

 _What the_ fuck _are you being so confident for_ —”Uh. Because… because… it makes me feel, uh, uncomfortable.”

Hyungwon winces. _Great_ , now _he probably thinks you have the most severe case of fragile masculinity. Or that you’re an asshole_. _Or_ both. _Way to go_.

Minhyuk frowns, and his eyebrows furrow. He clearly had not expected such a response. Hyungwon starts wringing his hands together nervously.

“I-I mean, it’s not a _bad_ kind of uncomfortable,” he blurts out. “No, it’s persistent, but it actually feels… nice…? In a way…?” He rubs his cheeks again. “Fuck, how do I say that without sounding weird, oh _god_ —”

He must have said something, or maybe it was just the fact that the other thrived on his suffering, because Minhyuk giggles at him being a blubbering mess, shoulders shaking and the corners of his eyes crinkling.

He thinks it’s the exhilaration that comes with his heart being figuratively thrown in the air that makes him smile softly at Minhyuk. (He _hopes_ it is, because he would never in his life admit that he had smiled at the other on his own accord.)

He tries schooling his expression back into one of nonchalance—because Chae motherfucking Hyungwon doesn’t get _soft_ , dammit!—but the faint click of the camera goes off at about the same time, so he doesn’t know whether he was able to will it away in time or not.

He winces for the second time that hour, and wishes once again that the camera did not capture him acting like a lovesick fool.

(Shortly after that, when Minhyuk chuckles as he reaches up to tuck a few strands of Hyungwon’s hair behind his ear, he realizes grimly that, no matter how many times he could try to deny it, maybe he actually was falling hard, and _fast_.)

 

The third room makes Hyungwon roll his eyes so hard he could practically see the back of his head.

“Oh, this is _beautiful_.” Minhyuk gasps in awe.

The room seemed to be a park, though it only had two fake cherry blossom trees, and the obviously wooden floor had been covered with patches of fake grass. The four walls of the section had screens attached that showed butterflies fluttering around and pink petals being swiftly carried away by the wind.

But those weren’t the things Hyungwon had noticed first. His gaze had gone straight to the bridge situated at the center of the room; just looking at it, he can already tell Minhyuk was going to manage to come up with yet another stupid idea.

The small wooden bridge was painted to look like it was made of stone, crossing over a small and shallow pond built into the wooden ground, upon which petals similar to the ones being displayed on the screens floated serenely.

Minhyuk visibly perks up upon seeing the bridge like an excited puppy being teased with a treat, and _maybe_ it makes Hyungwon’s heart skip a beat or twenty. He tugs Hyungwon by the hand towards the center of the room as he giggles to himself like a typical schoolgirl bystander, probably at the thought of what he was planning.

Hyungwon feels a bead of cold sweat run down his face.

They come to a stop at the peak of the bridge. Minhyuk lets go of Hyungwon’s hand to lean against the railing, tipping his head back with a content smile as he basks in the nonexistent breeze. The railing was short and only reached his waist, meaning just a bit of force would be enough to completely throw him off.

If Hyungwon hadn’t been scrunching his nose distastefully at the sight of Minhyuk being a complete loser, he probably would have acknowledged the emptiness he felt in the form of his palm tingling, in the parts where it had come into contact with the cosplayer’s.

When Minhyuk decides he’s finished acting like a shoujo protagonist, he fixes his gaze on Hyungwon, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I have an idea.” He sing-songs.

Hyungwon groans. _None_ of Minhyuk’s ideas were ever good. “Keep it. No one wants to hear it.”

“Come on, it’s _genius_! It will be the best one yet!”

“I find that very difficult to believe.”

Minhyuk pouts. “You’re always so gloomy—you expect the worst in _everything_.”

“I mean, that way, you’re less likely to end up disappointed, right?”

There’s a moment of silence as Minhyuk all but gapes at him in disbelief. Hyungwon chuckles darkly.

“That’s just _sad_.” Minhyuk says pitifully, shaking his head.

“It’s _funny_.”

“… in what way?”

Hyungwon shrugs. “It’s true to life.”

Minhyuk blinks. “I don’t understand how you find that funny.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Hyungwon scoffs. “My humor is an acquired taste.”

The other sighs deeply. “You know what, you may be pessimistic, but you’re not a hopeless cause. I’m making it my life mission to turn that frown _upside down_!” A bright grin replaces the earlier frown. He giggles as he makes grabby hands at Hyungwon like a baby, and Hyungwon suddenly finds it much harder to fight the urge to _not_ surrender himself to all of Minhyuk’s needs. “C’mere!”

He sighs as he takes a step closer. Not exactly _in-his-face_ close, but a comfortable distance that still allowed for him to bolt for the exit without being intercepted by Minhyuk and his demon-like athletic abilities when the situation called for it. He swats at the other’s hands and crosses his arms.

“So, Hyungwon, have you watched any romance anime?”

 _Yes, around twenty just this week_. “I’d rather choke.”

“That’s all right.” Minhyuk beams, tone bordering on menacing. He claps Hyungwon on the shoulder with a bit more force than necessary. “We can just watch some together next time. After I get you into _Haikyuu!!_ ”

Hyungwon’s heart leaps at the promise of a next time, then falls at the realization that there might not even be one.

“Anyway, since you’re the _cool_ and _mysterious_ guy,” Minhyuk says, oblivious to Hyungwon’s thoughts, “you’re gonna put your hands on the railing while I lean against it.”

Hyungwon narrows his eyes at the railing. It was fairly short; the highest point it could reach was the other’s waist, meaning just a bit of force would be enough to completely throw him off.

He blinks, slowly looking from the railing to Minhyuk to the pond below them as he imagined the other falling off the bridge.

“That’s quite tame.” He shrugs. “I expected worse.”

This response makes Minhyuk happy. “I knew you’d come around!”

Hyungwon moves to the space beside Minhyuk, then rests his hands on the railing. _This is nice_ , he decides. _No embarrassing fake boyfriend action, and a family-friendly distance between us_. He exhales in relief.

He isn’t given much time to relish in his freedom or even watch the petals float across the water before the cosplayer clears his throat. He turns his head to the side to see Minhyuk’s confused face.

“What are you doing.” Instead of sounding like a question, it sounded like criticism.

“What _am_ I doing?” Hyungwon shoots back. “This is your plan, isn’t it?”

“No…?” Minhyuk tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. “I said, put your hands on the railing while I lean against it.”

The repetition of his earlier statement does nothing for Hyungwon other than add to his confusion. Minhyuk had asked him to put his hands on the railing, and he did exactly that. The other was leaning against it, so there was nothing wrong as far as he knew.

He wracks his brain for any instance in a romance-themed show wherein there was a bridge, but comes up empty. He really doesn’t understand what— _oh_.

When he puts himself in Minhyuk’s shoes by figuratively diminishing the brain cells in his head, he can kind of guess what the other’s actual plan was.

He narrows his eyes. “You want me… to put my arms _around_ you.”

“Yes.”

“So I’m essentially going to be caging you in.”

“ _Yes_!”

Hyungwon brings one hand to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of course there was a catch. Of course.” He murmurs.

“What are you muttering to yourself about?” Minhyuk grins. “Get moving! The camera will be taking our picture any second now.”

“Can’t we just do something normal like... like—” Hyungwon surveys the area frantically, searching for something, _anything_ that would make for a not awkward couple picture.

He doesn’t find anything. He considers either bolting for the exit or throwing himself into the pond.

“Ugh.” He groans, pushing away from the railing and throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. “You know what—fine. _Fine_!”

He takes small steps to the right until he stands directly in front of Minhyuk (whispering “ _you can do it, Chae Hyungwon_ ” to himself as he does so), and tries to maintain a good, still family-friendly amount of space between them as he grips the railing to the left and right of the other.

Minhyuk frowns, crossing his arms. “At least come closer.“

“Are you kidding? This is the price you have to pay for me agreeing to do this stupid pose.”

“Okay, but look at it this way. You’re gonna look weird in the shot.” Minhyuk points out with no shame whatsoever. “You have unnaturally long limbs so you’re gonna look like a mantis being stretched out and—“

Hyungwon heaves a sigh, exuding a big amount of exasperation, then takes a few steps closer until the tips of his shoes meet Minhyuk’s, effectively cutting him off. He stares daggers at their feet, refusing to meet the other’s eyes.

“Do _not_ finish that sentence if you know what’s good for you.” He seethes.

A few beats of silence pass by before a breathy laugh sounds from above him. “You know, Hyungwonnie, you have a weird way of showing it, but you’re actually really sweet.”

He narrows his eyes, taking interest in the frayed tips of Minhyuk’s shoelaces. “How so?”

“Well, you ended up complying.” He explains.

Hyungwon’s jaw twitches. “Not like I had much of a choice.”

“Nah, you just like me.” Minhyuk teases.

Hyungwon chokes. He glances up at Minhyuk briefly, keeping his head ducked, because he _had_ to be joking.

The moment their eyes meet, he knows he’s wrong. Minhyuk smiles—small, but still sweet and radiant enough to make Hyungwon want to cry into his pillow before he went to bed—and his eyes narrow in what seemed to be fondness, maybe even the slight beginnings of what might just be the L-word Hyungwon absolutely does _not_ want to say in the same sentence as ‘ _Minhyuk_ ’. Ever.

He returns to staring at their feet, trying to forget the expression he had seen on the other’s face. He wishes the camera would just take their picture now before he _loses_ it.

“See, this isn’t so bad.” He mumbles from above Hyungwon.

His knuckles turn white where they gripped the railing. _You personally witnessed my heart failing, and that’s what you have to say?_ “Mhm. Sure. This is. This is fine.”

_Look him in the eye, coward!_

He doesn’t.

And wallows in self-pity because he is exactly that. A coward.

A deep sigh sounds from above him. A hand moves up to rest on Hyungwon’s cheek, softly patting it once. He can hear the smile in Minhyuk’s voice when the other whispers: “Look at me.”

He finds that it is extremely hard for him to resist Minhyuk, so he relents.

And immediately regrets it.

It is when he looks up that he realizes just how close he had stepped towards Minhyuk—just the slightest nudge of his head forward would make his nose brush against the other’s. His shaky breath ghosts over Minhyuk’s lips, and if that isn’t enough to make him want to throttle himself off the bridge, then he doesn’t know what is.

His chest swells just the slightest bit (read: very much) when he sees that the other was just as affected as he was. Minhyuk freezes, his hand turning cold with sweat where it came into contact with Hyungwon’s cheek (or maybe it just felt that way because his cheeks were practically burning). Minhyuk’s eyes widen, shaking slightly as they search his, and he finds that Minhyuk’s eyes were as brown as the next person—nothing unique—but they _shined_ , as bright as the sun in the LED screen.

And with that observation, of course, came the rest of Hyungwon’s unwelcome thoughts.

His mind suddenly travels too fast for him to catch up, resulting in him becoming hyper aware of something and anything and _everything_ , from the very little space left between them to the eyelash that had fallen a bit above Minhyuk’s cheekbone to how _soft_ his stupid _lips_ looked.

He chooses to acknowledge the second thought, lifting his hand to cup Minhyuk’s cheek gently and run his thumb over the eyelash. Minhyuk gasps.

“Ha, make a wish.” Hyungwon blurts out suddenly, chuckling nervously. He presses his thumb lightly against Minhyuk’s lips, the rest of his hand still brushing against the other’s cheek.

He had meant for Minhyuk to blow it away, but he realizes that he had just unsurprisingly managed to fuck things up even further when he observes that the eyelash was notably _not there_ , making it seem as if he was just touching Minhyuk’s ( _very_ soft, he can now confirm) lips for the sake of it.

His cheeks turn a furious red. “I-I didn’t mean to—“

He trails off, distracted by the look that had just appeared on Minhyuk’s face. His expression was uncharacteristically unreadable; his half-lidded gaze was intense as it settled on Hyungwon’s eyes, lowering slowly as if to scan his expression until they landed and stayed on a feature on his face that Hyungwon absolutely did _not_ want to name or acknowledge in any way, in fear of actually exploding from how red he’s steadily becoming.

He freezes when Minhyuk softly rubs the pad of his thumb across Hyungwon’s cheek. It becomes increasingly harder for him to avoid nuzzling his head into the other’s palm, so he’s more than thankful when it leaves his face.

He cards his fingers through Hyungwon’s hair; it’s somewhat soothing, and Hyungwon has to hold back a contented sigh.

“Soft.” He whispers, tugging slightly at the strands he had in his hold. His eyes are still locked on the facial-feature-that-must-not-be-named.

“Yeah, thanks. My shampoo is imported.” Hyungwon jokes nervously. It stays in the air, unanswered, because they _both_ know Minhyuk wasn’t referring to his hair at all.

He holds his breath when Minhyuk slowly pulls him closer, hand firm as it guided his head. Another hand makes its way across Hyungwon’s shoulders, eliciting a particularly ticklish feeling in his stomach. With the aid of the added hand, he is tugged closer and closer, until he can actually _feel_ Minhyuk’s warm breath ghost over his lips. Hyungwon realizes it’s both everything he _does_ and _doesn’t_ want when he acknowledges how warm he feels wrapped in Minhyuk’s arms, one around his shoulders and the other hand still soothingly rubbing the back of his head, and how he kind of _desperately_ wants to feel that same warmth envelop his facial-feature-that-must-not-be-named.

Just inches before their lips almost meet, Minhyuk peers into Hyungwon’s eyes, a serious and determined look on his face.

Minhyuk breathes in deeply. “I’m going to kiss you.” He murmurs with a low voice.

Hyungwon’s heart thumps against his ribcage _so hard_ he feels as if it’s going to burst right out of his chest. He’s too frozen to answer, and too late anyway because Minhyuk shuts his eyes and tugs him closer to lessen the space between them, taking his silence as an affirmative.

 _Oh god, this is really happening. This is an_ actual _thing that is_ actually _fucking happening._

His knees go weak when he feels the warm and shaky breath settle just a few millimeters away from his lips, and now he can’t help but be aware of the section of his mind that made him want to tug Minhyuk closer and finish the job _himself_ , in hopes of easing his nervousness.

He also wants to scream because where the _fuck_ did that thought come from and why was he suddenly so intent on kissing _Lee Minhyuk_ of all people?

It all happened too quick, their lips almost touching yet not quite, but the events still unfolded slow enough for his unbelieving ass to continue denying the feelings he knew were surely brewing inside him, even down to the very last second.

And since Hyungwon is the most stubborn person alive, the self-proclaimed man of steel who enjoyed running away from his feelings, he instinctively does the first thing he thinks of.

The very moment he feels the faint brush of Minhyuk’s soft and trembling lips against his, he emits an embarrassingly high-pitched noise, pressing both of his hands firmly on the other’s chest, then _pushes_.

“There’s a bug on your shirt!” He lies quickly.

And just like that, the moment is lost. Minhyuk squeaks in surprise, eyes snapping wide open. “What—“

Hyungwon learns that his arms weren’t as weak as he thought, because Minhyuk begins to lean dangerously over the railing.

He screeches as his arms flail around in an unconscious attempt to regain his balance. “Help!”

“Hold on—for _fuck’s_ sake, stop moving!” Hyungwon scrambles to grip the collar of Minhyuk’s uniform shirt and pull him back quickly before he meets a very wet fate.

The cosplayer meets a very warm one instead, wrapped in Hyungwon’s lanky arms, and okay, maybe this isn’t so bad.

“I’m sorry,” Hyungwon whispers. “Didn’t think I was that strong.”

“I... I could have _died_!” Minhyuk squeaks, borderline hysterically. He wraps his arms around Hyungwon’s shoulders shakily, both in relief and fear at the thought of what could have happened. He rests his head on Hyungwon’s chest.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He snickers, hand subconsciously rubbing the small of Minhyuk’s back. The other’s styled white hair tickles his chin, but it feels kind of nice. “I have amazing reflexes.”

He freezes once again and winces when he realizes what he’s doing, but just as he is about to drop his arms and move as far away from Minhyuk as physically possible, the distinct click of a camera sounds from somewhere by the bridge.

Hyungwon’s nostrils flare, and his eyes close as he inhales deeply.

Ah, _fuck_.

He doesn’t have time to dwell in his misery, because Minhyuk suddenly squeals excitedly, nuzzling Hyungwon’s neck.

“The next one’s the last room, I think,” He chirps, patting Hyungwon’s back before he steps away. Hyungwon tries to ignore how cold he suddenly feels. “ I can’t wait to see how the pictures turn out!”

Hyungwon is shocked at the fact that he had let go of the previous event that fast. He starts to think that maybe he had hallucinated everything.

Minhyuk takes a few steps forward before he stops abruptly.

Hyungwon frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot something.” The cosplayer whispers, turning shy all of a sudden.

“But we didn’t bring any—oh.”

He had turned to Hyungwon, a hand outstretched. The tips of his ears were a brilliant pink, coming into full view with how he was looking everywhere but Hyungwon.

He takes it quietly, welcoming the tingling feeling that courses through his fingers and the familiar warmth they shared through their palms. It wasn’t a hallucination, he confirms.

(He is even _more_ shocked when he realizes that he did not want it to be one at all.)

 

The fourth and final room doesn’t make him grimace or want to throw up—instead, it confuses him and makes him want to laugh.

“What the fuck is supposed to happen _here_ ,” he chortles, staring down the structure standing in front of them.

It was not as extravagant as the aquarium, or as realistic as the park, nor was it as warm as the classroom—it was simply a brick wall.

He wishes he was kidding, but the room was as small as a tool shed, and all it had on one side was a literal _wall_.

There was absolutely nothing special about it. It was maybe a few inches taller than Hyungwon, and the only things that made it look less simple than it was were the ceramic tubs above it carrying beds of flowers and the LED screen behind it that glowed a pastel pink.

None of the romance shows he had watched featured a brick wall. He was clueless.

“You know that meme where the dude argues with a brick wall? Was there ever a romance anime version of that?” He lets go of Minhyuk’s hand to mimic the meme, then cackles at himself. “This is already my favorite one! No more sickening couple shit!”

It takes a good five seconds for Hyungwon to realize that he was the only one laughing. He trails off, grin shifting into a frown, as he turns to face Minhyuk, who was still standing frozen at the entrance to the section. “Minh— _oh_ , are you alright?”

Minhyuk’s face looked like it was a second away from exploding—this was the most red Hyungwon has ever seen him. His eyes were wide, his lips pressed into a thin line, as he stared at the brick wall as if he was about to do the hardest pose he would ever do in his entire lifetime. Hyungwon watches, incredibly confused, as Minhyuk swallows thickly.

“Hyungwon… if you didn’t like my three other ideas, you’re _definitely_ not going to like this one.” He warns quietly.

“What could possibly be worse than your other ideas?” Hyungwon raises an eyebrow. “And when has a brick wall ever been in a shoujo anime? I mean, not that I’ve _watched_ any, of course—“

“Are you kidding, this is where the most cliche scene in every romance show out there takes place,” Minhyuk furrows his eyebrows, “this is where people do the _kabedon_.”

The other whispers the last word, as if even speaking its name was something Hyungwon would get offended by—which he didn’t, because he didn’t even know what the fuck it meant. “Please don’t tell me that’s some kind of dirty term—“

“ _NO_!” Minhyuk yells to cut him off, so flustered he practically resembled a tomato. “God, no. We aren’t even allowed to do any of that yaoi stuff in here.”

Hyungwon’s jaw drops in horror. “Are you _implying_ that you _considered_ doing yaoi stuff?”

The cosplayer turns a brighter shade of red, which should have been impossible.

“The fact that you aren’t even answering concerns me.” Hyungwon points out, then shakes his head.

That seems to make Minhyuk get over his temporary speechlessness. “I did _not_ consider it!” He squeaks. “I was just… taken aback by the fact that _you_ implied that _I_ implied that I—“

“Drop it.” Hyungwon interrupts, his own cheeks reddening. “That’s not what matters right now. Let’s move on to more _important_ things—such as the fact that I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about that relates to a wall.”

The other takes a deep breath. “Don’t freak out.”

“We’ll see about that.“

“The most basic explanation I can give you is that you’re going to have to, uh, corner me.”

Hyungwon tilts his chin up, eyebrows furrowing. “That’s it? Like I’m about to fight you? That isn’t so hard.”

“No, that’s not it.” Minhyuk says quietly. “You’re supposed to corner me like you’re about to… kiss me.”

 _Oh_.

Well, at least _now_ he sees why this is supposedly worse than all his other ideas.

“One. Word.” Hyungwon says calmly, his flushed cheeks the only things giving his true demeanor away. “No.”

“But, _Hyungwonnie_!” Minhyuk whines, pouting. He now has the strength to walk over to Hyungwon and latch onto his arm like a leech. “This is the last time we’re ever going to do something like this, and it’s a _shoujo_ booth, for god’s sake, we can’t just end with a stupid _meme_.”

“Who says we can’t?” Hyungwon reasons, trying to shake Minhyuk of his arm, which was proving to be impossible by the second. “Is there shoujo booth etiquette I don’t know about?”

“Yes.” Minhyuk says seriously. “This is your first convention. I know better.”

Hyungwon snorts. “The website says this is the first time they’re offering a shoujo booth.”

The cosplayer curses under his breath, then goes quiet.

He gives it a few seconds. “We’re going with the meme.”

“But—“ Minhyuk looks up, and oh no, there it is. The irresistible sad puppy eyes that Hyungwon could never say no to even if he tried. He had pulled this same trick the other day before Hyungwon had found himself being dragged to the Sailor Moon ice cream stall. It was _lethal_ , and anyone who had ever been exposed to it knew that.

Hyungwon bites his bottom lip and stops it from shaking as he tries to appear stern, but it becomes increasingly harder when Minhyuk’s pout starts trembling and his eyes actually start shedding legitimate tears, _what the fuck_ — “Oh my god, _fine_!”

And as if something had been switched on, Minhyuk automatically brightens up, eyes shining as if the crocodile tears had never been there. Hyungwon almost regrets his decision as he watches the other practically skip over to lean against the wall.

“Here!” Minhyuk calls, beckoning him over. “Put one hand next to my head then rest your weight on that arm.”

Hyungwon makes sure to heave a big sigh before he begrudgingly complies. He’s still a good family-friendly distance away from Minhyuk, and if he had things his way, it would end here.

“Now lean in.” Minhyuk commands, smiling.

“God, do I really have to?” Hyungwon hisses. He covers Minhyuk’s mouth with his free hand once he sees the beginnings of a pout. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He doesn’t take his hand off when he leans in, and actually finds it easier to stop himself from getting flustered that way. Without the stupidly soft lips distracting him from everything, he finds that it is much easier to breathe with his face literally five centimeters away from Minhyuk’s.

“Oh! This is nice.” He smirks, then sticks his tongue out. Minhyuk’s eyebrows furrow as he growls beneath Hyungwon’s hand.

He says something shortly after, but the only thing Hyungwon understands is how warm the other’s breath is against his palm. “Sorry, what?”

Minhyuk repeats it, a bit louder this time, but it’s still muffled by the obstruction.

Hyungwon chuckles. “ _What_?”

The cosplayer rolls his eyes before he brings a hand up to pull Hyungwon’s hand away forcefully. Hyungwon yelps.

“I _said_ ,” Minhyuk repeats, grinning, “say cheese!”

The next thing Hyungwon knows, two hands are holding each side of his head, and he’s suddenly being tugged the rest of the five centimeters towards Minhyuk’s face.

He doesn’t even have time to react, it all happens way too fast. The only thing his mind is able to tell him to do is close his eyes and brace for impact, which he _does_ , definitely not hoping that he was finally going to feel the soft press of another’s lips against his that he had been deprived of in the previous section.

The next thing he feels is notably _not_ the aforementioned (because the world hates him, surprise surprise!), but still makes his heart quicken its pace all the same.

At the same time he puckers up just the _tiniest_ bit, Minhyuk’s soft lips come into contact with his cheek—something he definitely wasn’t expecting. It’s nothing but a sweet peck to the corner of Hyungwon’s lips, somewhat _teasing_ , so close yet so far away. He has never felt more betrayed.

It’s still, however, more physical contact than Hyungwon was used to receiving, and it still counts as a legitimate fucking _kiss_ , just aimed at a part that was _not_ his own lips, so his brain doesn’t stop itself from short circuiting.

The camera unsurprisingly goes off at the exact time the kiss happens. Hyungwon doesn’t know how Minhyuk was able to predict it, but one thing he knew for sure was that it had something to do with powers, and he did _not_ fuck with demons—even if they were cosplaying hotties that went by the name of Lee Minhyuk.

He has many things he wants to say, but the only thing that leaves his mouth is a shaky wheeze.

Minhyuk pulls away to laugh breathily, taking in Hyungwon’s flustered state. His own cheeks were dusted with a brilliant pink, but it didn’t seem to bother him at all—in fact, he was practically _glowing_.

Before he is given the chance to fight Minhyuk for taking him by surprise, or even tell him how adorable he looked as he laughed with his cheeks all pink, the curtain on one side of the room draws back to reveal the girl who had ushered them in earlier.

“Well, you two seem like you’re having fun!” She exclaims excitedly. Hyungwon wants to dig himself a hole. “Thank you for visiting the shoujo booth! You may purchase your pictures at the claiming counter. Come again next time!”

 

 

“Never again.” Hyungwon mutters under his breath, eyes shaking.

“Oh, come on,” Minhyuk laughs, punching his arm lightly, “you totally enjoyed that. Stop lying to yourself.”

They were walking away from the claiming counter, the box with the figurine carefully nestled in Minhyuk’s arms and the brown envelope containing the pictures gripped tightly by Hyungwon. They had not yet looked at them (Minhyuk had insisted on not peeking, even when they were offered the chance to), so Hyungwon had no clue how they turned out—he just hopes it’s nothing embarrassing.

The staff had also allowed him to keep the uniform, gushing nonstop about how it brought out his good looks even more and assuring him that they had more of these clothes anyway as they haphazardly threw his shitty Monokuma “costume” into an empty eco bag.

He sighs as he remembers the manner in which they had put away his clothes. _Rest in peace, dear Balenciaga jacket._

“Where to?” Minhyuk asks eagerly.

Hyungwon purses his lips. “The only other event I wanted to check out was the rooftop festival thing the convention is holding. It’s today, right?”

Minhyuk visibly perks up, eyes shining. “Yeah, it’s today! I was hoping you’d mention it!”

The rooftop festival was yet another _Anime Expo_ exclusive. Hyungwon had read about it on the website, but it never really caught his interest. Apparently, it was designed in such a way that it resembled the festival from _Hotarubi no Mori e_ , but Hyungwon hadn’t seen that movie yet so he still didn’t understand all the hype. (That was just the excuse he had made, the _real_ reason was that he was the biggest crybaby in existence, and he was just too scared to watch the movie after reading all the reviews.)

He hadn’t planned on checking it out at all, but one of the many things he had noticed the past few days from hanging out with Minhyuk was the other’s forlorn stares at all the posters promoting the event, and the way his gaze had lingered on the people setting up the stalls on the rooftop while they were waiting for their rides home the other day.

Today was all about exploiting Minhyuk’s presence for his own sugar dude friend desires, so he thought the perfect end to the day would be attending the festival.

“Alright, then.” Hyungwon directs a small smile at Minhyuk, then surprises both himself and the other when he initiates the hand-holding. “Lead the way.”

 

Hyungwon would be lying if he said that the first things he saw once he stepped into the festival did not mesmerize him.

It was definitely way bigger than he had expected. Lanterns of different shapes and colors had been strung above their heads, kept hanging by tall poles that had been set up in different corners of the rooftop. The setting sun cast an orange hue that looked incredibly ethereal when filtered through these lanterns, and that alone made Hyungwon feel something brew inside him as he took it all in with the warmth of another’s hand in his.

Booths selling various street food or offering games to play lined the pathway, where numerous people were either walking or dancing along to the live music without a care for who would be seeing them. Many more fake cherry blossom trees accompanied the booths, with one even standing in the center of the whole festival, their pink petals swaying in the slight breeze.

The scent that tickled their noses was surprisingly not of the sweaty children that Hyungwon had been expecting, but of sweet candied apples and freshly cooked takoyaki.

The festival was nothing short of _breathtaking_ , and he can now see why a look of pure and unfiltered awe had crossed Minhyuk’s face.

“Okay, this wasn’t what I was expecting at all.” Hyungwon voices out truthfully, glancing at his partner. “I thought it would be a pathetic attempt at looking like a festival.”

He wasn’t lying. Just reading its description on the website made him think the whole concept was too ambitious, but then again the organizers of the event seemed to have as much budget as—if not _more_ than—the maid cafe and the shoujo booth.

Minhyuk meets his gaze, a wide smile on his face. “Does it appeal to your oh so expensive tastes?”

“Perhaps.”

“Good to know,” the cosplayer giggles. “You know what. Let’s go on a food trip. We must try _everything_. We must!”

And that’s how he finds himself being dragged to every existing stall in the festival.

It also doesn’t help that there is a baggage counter at the entrance, which means that Minhyuk would be able to leave the huge figurine and therefore have more energy to run around and pull Hyungwon along with him. (Not that Hyungwon was complaining. Which he _should_ be, but there was definitely something wrong with him today.)

Minhyuk was the most gung-ho about the whole thing, which did not surprise Hyungwon in the slightest. They’d be sharing a small cup of some special kind of juice, taking turns to sip (from opposite edges at first, but Hyungwon would lose track of whose edge was whose a few minutes later), when suddenly Minhyuk would be tugging at his hand excitedly, insisting that they check out the next booth _immediately_. That’s probably how Hyungwon ends up with a handful of finger food, and way less money in his wallet. The effect was starting to become more than ‘ _merely an ant bite_ ’.

They wander through the crowd as they share four pieces of mochi contained in a tiny box ( _strawberry_ , the one flavor Hyungwon hated more than anything—had Minhyuk’s charms increased over the day or was Hyungwon just growing weak?), looking for another new thing to try.

“There are so many things we can do, it’s overwhelming,” Minhyuk says, eyes shining. He opens his mouth quietly afterwards, expectant. (And overly adorable, Hyungwon’s mind unwelcomely adds.)

Hyungwon takes notice of the gesture, then silently pokes one mochi using a toothpick and holds it out in front of Minhyuk’s open mouth for him to eat. “By the end of the day, we’re gonna be _bloated_.”

Minhyuk takes it in his mouth and smiles around the toothpick before Hyungwon pulls it away. “Let’s play one of the games then! Put this energy to good use!” He exclaims through a mouthful.

“Don’t talk while your mouth is full, asshat.” Hyungwon whacks the back of the other’s head playfully, smiling to himself as he pokes a piece for himself with the same toothpick. “Find something you like then.”

Eventually, after a few moments of walking, Minhyuk starts making unintelligible sounds as he motions towards a general direction.

“ _THERE_!” He finally manages to yell into Hyungwon’s ear after swallowing. “That booth! That booth!”

Hyungwon almost spits out his mochi in surprise when Minhyuk pulls at his arm insistently, pointing at it excitedly until they come to a stop in front of it.

It’s literally nothing special. It was the usual game booth wherein one was given three tries to knock down a stack of tin cans using a ball—but _everyone_ and their grandma knew it was rigged. He didn’t know why Minhyuk was so taken by it, and was even about to tell him there were much more fun things worth their time, until his eyes trace the cosplayer’s gaze to the _real_ object of his interest.

It was the biggest pillow on display—a chibi head of some anime character Hyungwon did not know of and has probably never heard of.

“Who’s that?” Hyungwon questions, an eyebrow raised. He needed to make sure it was worth his time.

Minhyuk gapes at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me? That’s _Haruka Nanase_ from _Free!!_ Don’t tell me you don’t know him. He’s, like, the _god of the gays_.”

Ah, that explains why Hyungwon was clueless. “I don’t enjoy associating my elitistic anime expertise with shows of… the _sports_ genre.” He says, voice slightly laced with disgust. “Though Slam Dunk is an exception.”

Minhyuk narrows his eyes at him. “That’s another ten shows added to our list of things to watch together.” He hisses.

Hyungwon rolls his eyes before turning to call the attention of the man attending to the booth. It was worth a try, and if it would make Minhyuk that happy to own it, then maybe it wouldn’t be a waste of his time.

He is given the cursory three balls before the man steps aside to make way for the throws.

“Go Hyungwon!” Minhyuk cheers, jumping enthusiastically. “It’s that plushie or nothing!”

Hyungwon grips one ball before he pulls back and throws with all the strength he could muster.

The first attempt expectedly has no effect on the tin cans, because once again, the game is fucking rigged. A smart, capitalistic tactic made to earn loads of money from people mesmerized by the prizes on display.

He turns to the still-cheering Minhyuk, handing him the second ball so he could see for himself that it was absolutely hopeless. “You try giving it a go.”

Minhyuk takes it willingly, stepping back and making a show of warming up his shoulder joints. “Four years of little league baseball didn’t teach me _nothing_.” He says, a wicked grin on his face.

The throw is definitely way stronger than anything Hyungwon could have ever done, but it still doesn’t make the tin cans move even an inch. Minhyuk was starting to look dejected, cradling the third ball hesitantly.

That expression did _not_ sit well with Hyungwon at all. He was not used to seeing Minhyuk sad, and he figures that he might as well shoo the feeling out of the other before the disappointment was eventually directed at _him_ , after the convention was over and Hyungwon has probably screwed him over like the previous other lowlives.

He feels newfound determination course through his veins, and is dead set on winning him the plushie, even if it was the _last_ thing he would do—even if it was the last thing that would remind Minhyuk of the time they had spent together.

He heaves a sigh, knowing there was no possible way to win this other than with his own resources. “Hey, Minhyuk. Can you throw these away for a moment?” He hands him the paper bag they had dumped all their trash in.

Minhyuk takes it reluctantly. “Sure… will you be okay on your own for a while? I think the nearest trash can is a couple of booths away.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Hyungwon smiles, an almost evil glint in his eye. “I got this.”

The moment Minhyuk disappears into the crowd, Hyungwon drops the act and rounds on the man attending to the booth, beckoning him over with a serious expression on his face. “Listen,” He begins with a low voice, “I know there’s no way around this because your stupid game is rigged as all hell, so I’m gonna make a deal with you.”

The man furrows his eyebrows. “What is it?”

Hyungwon reaches into his pocket for his wallet and takes out a good amount of money. He waves it in front of the man’s face. “ _This_ in exchange for that big plushie up there. Make it look like I knocked the cans over myself.”

The man takes it, wide-eyed. _As expected_ , Hyungwon thinks, chuckling inwardly. “Half of that goes to your booth out of pity. And the other half goes to you if you tell your boss he should go suck a dick. Deal?”

“Deal.” The man scrambles to the tower of cans then punches it forcefully, making the cans fly everywhere. He takes the ball from Hyungwon’s hand and throws it into the mess as well.

Hyungwon crosses his arms, smirking. There was nothing a bit of money couldn’t fix in a world full of hungry capitalists.

By the time Minhyuk is walking back towards him, the plushie is secured in his arms. He doesn’t miss the way the other practically lights up, eyes full on sparkling and a wide grin making its way across his face. It makes him feel _triumphant_.

“You did it?” He gushes quietly, looking from the cans on the floor to the plushie to Hyungwon. His eyes even tear up a little bit, it’s the most adorable thing ever. Hyungwon kind of wants to drop the plushie and take Minhyuk in his arms instead. “You’re so _strong_.”

 _Actually, my wallet is_. “I told you. I got this.”

“Thank you,” Minhyuk beams. He takes the plushie and hugs it tightly, burying his face in the soft material. Hyungwon has to pinch his side to stop himself from gushing.

They leave the stall hand-in-hand, with Minhyuk enthusiastically talking about how he had passed by another booth with a prize he wanted, but not before Hyungwon exchanges a knowing nod with the man he had made a deal with.

By the end of the afternoon, both their arms are as full as their stomachs, albeit with Minhyuk’s plushies, and there’s definitely a significant change in the air between them.

 

 

The sun is already on the verge of setting, its light casting a pink hue across the sky, when they decide to rest on one of the stone benches they had found on the rooftop, happily munching on their candied apples.

It was apparently a photo spot for all the festival-goers, which was kind of obvious given the plethora of fake cherry blossom trees in this particular area, but they and their aching feet couldn’t care less.

They had arranged Minhyuk’s plushies in a line by their feet. Hyungwon thought it looked dumb, but Minhyuk had insisted that he wanted them to enjoy the sunset as well. But honestly, if Hyungwon hadn’t calmed the other down while he was gushing over how cute the formation looked, he probably would have ended up buying candied apples for each of them too.

The silence is comfortable as they watch cars zoom by over the railing, and Hyungwon feels a sudden sense of calmness wash over him. He thinks to himself that it feels nice when the person to his left isn’t chatting his ear off, but he knows deep inside that that wasn’t the reason why he was feeling like this at all. The truth was that _maybe_ he had grown fond of his convention partner, and _maybe_ he had figured out that whatever his heart was feeling was not hurt, but a comfortable squeezing feeling that only ever happened when he looked at Minhyuk.

Hyungwon had never felt like this in his entire life, and it was honestly scaring him.

When Minhyuk opens his mouth to speak (because the boy could never sit silent for a long period of time like Hyungwon could; if he did, then something was wrong), the sun is already setting and Hyungwon’s candied apple is already half finished.

“You know,” he begins softly, smiling to himself, “I never thought I would see you in a place like this.”

Hyungwon snorts, glancing at him. “Funny how that was also the first thing you told me when we ran into each other.”

“Funny how you still remember.” Minhyuk grins.

“It was literally a few days ago, what are you going on about?” He scoffs. “And how could I forget? This was the most fun I’ve had in _ages_.”

A gasp sounds from his left. “Really?” The other questions, a hopeful tone in his voice.

“Sure.” He replies over the loud beating of his heart. “Maybe not for my wallet, but… you know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

Hyungwon shoots him a glare, though it contained no real irritation at all. “You should see your face. You’re so eager for me to elaborate, it’s almost annoying.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I just meant that _maybe_ I enjoyed being around you,” Hyungwon continues anyway, twirling the candied apple’s stick in his hands. When Minhyuk opens his mouth to speak, an ecstatic look on his face, Hyungwon cuts him off right away. “ _No_. It’s still a hard maybe. Don’t look at me like that.”

Minhyuk beams, looking away bashfully. “It’s alright. I know it’s just your snarky exterior talking.”

Hyungwon hates how his own cheeks redden, because he knows the other is right.

“And just for the record, I enjoyed being around you too.” Minhyuk adds.

It becomes incredibly difficult for Hyungwon to keep fighting the smile off his face, so he gives in. He looks everywhere but Minhyuk, not allowing him to see how happy that comment had made him. It wasn’t like he would have anyway, because he was also looking off into the distance, avoiding Hyungwon’s eyes. It would make for a pretty funny sight to anyone who would happen to look at them—two guys sitting on a stone bench, less than a foot apart because they _were_ gay, except both of them were trying not to look at each other in hopes of driving the blush out of their cheeks.

Hyungwon clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence they had lapsed into. “To think that none of this would have happened if we didn’t fight over that Eli figurine.”

Minhyuk inhales sharply. “Heh… About that…” He begins, laughing nervously.

Hyungwon turns to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What.”

Minhyuk fidgets, pursing his lips as a brilliant pink dusts his cheeks. It’s all Hyungwon needs to see. “Don’t tell me—you _found_ it and bought it while I wasn’t around!”

“No!” Minhyuk blurts out. “Of course not. And even if I _did_ find it, I wouldn’t have enough money to get it. That figurine is worth my entire life!”

Hyungwon gasps. Minhyuk must have realized what he had said, because he suddenly covers his mouth, wide-eyed.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Oh my fucking _god_ ,” He pokes Minhyuk’s arm, making the other curl in on himself like a caterpillar. “So you’re telling me you were never going to buy the figurine?”

He doesn’t receive a reply, but that in itself already answers his question.

“Lee Minhyuk, you better explain yourself _right now_ or else I’m gonna be putting this barbeque stick to better use.” Hyungwon threatens, though there’s no actual ill intent laced in the statement. It was kind of funny seeing Minhyuk like this. “Did you distract me just so I wouldn’t be able to get it? Huh?”

“ _Nooooooo_.” Minhyuk’s groan is muffled by his thighs, his ears red. “I… ugh, okay, I kind of… maybeuseditasanexcusetotalktoyou. Maybe. Probably.”

Hyungwon almost drops his stick and stops breathing. “W- _what_?”

“Do you want me _dead_ or something?” Minhyuk sniffles. He turns his head to the side slightly to glare weakly at Hyungwon. “Please don’t make me repeat myself. I _can’t_.”

He couldn’t deny the fact that what Minhyuk had admitted had done a number to his heart. He doesn’t know what to say—he can only stare in shock at the boy next to him, who was drowning in pure embarrassment, and had ears that had grown significantly warmer than a hot pot.

He settles for a simple: “But why?”

“Ugh. I don’t know,” Minhyuk says tiredly. “I’ve kind of wanted to get closer to you for a while now, it was just when I saw you here that I found the opportunity.”

Hyungwon opens his mouth to voice out his surprise, but Minhyuk cuts him off quickly. “You’re, like, this cool and handsome guy at school—I mean, not that you aren’t cool and handsome everywhere else, you definitely are. It’s just… you’re _untouchable_.”

Hyungwon silently fiddles with his now-empty stick, an awkward air manifesting around them.

He coughs, turning his head to rest his right cheek on his thigh so he wouldn’t have to look at Hyungwon. “And I kind of already knew you liked anime since before the convention.”

Hyungwon’s voice dies down in his throat. “Wait, how?” He squeaks in disbelief.

“Your music tends to be loud sometimes. I heard the sixth Naruto opening through your earphones.”

 _Fuck_.

“It’s all thanks to my anime-dar, though.” Minhyuk continues, now looking at him and smiling. “It was unintelligible enough to pass off as some obscure rock song, but I know the notes of a Naruto opening when I hear them.”

He reminds Hyungwon of himself so much, it’s painful. “I should start investing in noise-cancelling headphones then.”

Minhyuk frowns. “Hey, don’t. You wear them going to school, right? What if you get run over or something?”

Hyungwon raises an eyebrow. “You noticed?”

“You’re very hard not to notice.” The other mumbles, not meeting his stare.

They lapse into an awkward silence—it’s almost deafening. There are still numerous things Hyungwon can’t wrap around his head, such as the fact that the boy next to him had actually been wanting to talk to him since before the convention, and that said boy had been intimidated by him. It’s a testament to how powerful his cool, mysterious, and rich popular guy facade is, but he oddly isn’t all that pleased about it.

He had _no_ right to feel displeased, for someone who was so willing to let go of people for the sake of his reputation.

He clears his throat, desperate to dispel the almost tangible tension between them. “So you used the figurine as a means to… start _talking_ to me?”

“Will you just let it go?” Minhyuk whines. “I said maybe.”

“Cut it with the maybe bullshit—you _totally_ did.” He says, poking Minhyuk’s exposed cheek. “ _Look at you_. I can cook eggs on your cheeks at this point!”

Minhyuk straightens, rounding on Hyungwon with his candied apple raised threateningly in front of his face. “You won’t like me when I’m angry.” He growls, but all he ends up looking like is an enraged puppy. It’s hardly a threat, and Hyungwon has to fight the urge to pinch his cheeks.

“I’m not mad, okay. About the figurine.” Hyungwon assures, calmly turning back to face the view. “Losing the opportunity to purchase it brought me to yo—um, numerous benefits. Eli Ayase is truly a goddess.”

Minhyuk exhales, relieved. As if Hyungwon would ever genuinely hate him anyway. “She isn’t even in my top three, honestly.”

“Okay. Now you’re just _trying_ to get on my nerves.”

“Have I ever?”

 _For being as cute as you are and an all-around amazing person? Definitely_. “So many times. I’ve lost count.”

Minhyuk laughs, knowing it’s a half-assed attempt at a jest. “I’ll have you know you’ve never gotten on mine.” He shakes his head, smiling to himself. “You’re really something else, Chae Hyungwon.”

“I’ll be taking that as a compliment.”

“It was meant to be one.” Minhyuk bites his lip, clearly trying to fight the wide smile off his face. He seems to now notice the fact that half his face was painted orange by the sky, because he suddenly turns to the view, eyes sparkling. “Oh, the sun is setting.”

Hyungwon feels awkward all of a sudden, staring at the other like a fool as he bathed in the warm light, so he looks away abruptly. It’s incredibly silent, the only noise coming from the people milling around the festival and the faint sound of the live band playing their instruments.

After a few more seconds of sitting there pathetically, he decides to pick up the brown envelope from the shoujo booth and look through the pictures—what else was there to lose if they didn’t turn out well? Just the mere act of attending the convention already put his dignity on the line.

He takes the distracted Minhyuk as a good sign to open the envelope and take the thin pile of pictures out quietly. They had been arranged in order and placed inside face down, which only served to make Hyungwon even more nervous as to whether or not his face would look alright.

He takes a deep breath before he turns the first one over.

He turns the next one over.

Then the next one.

Then the final one.

He looks through all of them again, one by one, all at once, repeatedly, almost _frantically_ , until the images are literally imprinted into his brain and seared onto the backs of his eyelids. They stay vivid and permanent in his mind like tattoos even after he hastily slides them all back in the envelope—a hard realization and a painful reminder.

It wasn’t that the angles were bad, or that he had been caught in unflattering angles, or even the embarrassingly stupid _cherry blossom borders_ that complemented the pinkish filter—it was the sickeningly fond look on Hyungwon’s face.

The first photo showed a laughing Minhyuk, the corners of his eyes crinkling in joy as his smile surpassed the radiance of the sun on the screen behind them. Across him sat Hyungwon, whose chin was cushioned by the arms he rested on the backrest of his chair. His earphones were dangling off his desk, abandoned and forgotten for the boy sitting behind him, who he was gazing at with the fondest expression he had ever seen on himself.

The second photo had captured the moment when Minhyuk had been giggling at his flustered state; Hyungwon’s hands were still covering his cheeks after the lame attempt at acting shocked, a soft smile on his face. The tacky display of the school of fish creating a perfect heart somehow fit well into the scene, but just like the earphones from the previous image, they had been ignored for the boy with a smile more exuberant than the corals on the screen.

The third photo was not as busy as the other two, but it left an impact more powerful than anything. It simply showed the two of them standing on the bridge, with Hyungwon hugging Minhyuk to his chest and rubbing his back comfortingly. His chin was resting on Minhyuk’s head, something he had done subconsciously, and he looked as if he had never felt more content than in that moment.

The last one was the most chaotic of the bunch. Minhyuk had timed this one perfectly—his eyes were closed, his lips stretched into a small smile as they came into contact with the corner of Hyungwon’s mouth. Hyungwon had obviously been taken by surprise; his eyes were wide, and his lips had parted a bit in shock. Despite the fact that it may not have been the best he’s looked, this image brought forth strong emotions he did not think he could name.

If things had already been confusing for him prior to this moment, then all these images had managed to do was exacerbate the situation. He did not know what to make of them, he did not know what to make of every single moment he had experienced this exact same feeling around Minhyuk, and he _certainly_ did not know what to make of the fact that he was beginning to have both heart _and_ lung problems. He did not think he would ever know what to make of them.

He is pulled away from his thoughts when Minhyuk rests his hand in the space between them. He doesn’t have to look at it directly to know it’s there—it radiated _warmth_ and _openness_ , two things Hyungwon thought Minhyuk was made of. It was an invitation for Hyungwon to hold his hand any time he pleased, or ignore it if he so wanted to—what mattered was that he knew it was always going to be there for him to take.

So he takes it, silently slotting his fingers in the spaces between Minhyuk’s, hoping he wouldn’t hear how loud his heartbeats were.

“Was wondering when you’d notice.” Minhyuk laughs softly, cheeks pink. “My hands were getting kinda cold, you know.”

He realizes then that he _wants_ to hold Minhyuk’s hand like this more often, in hopes that he would be able to return the warmth he had been so generously given.

He tries to swallow his emotions. “Sorry, I’m late, then.”

“It’s alright.” Minhyuk whispers through a smile, squeezing his hand. “I just needed a little courage.”

Hyungwon glances at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

The other seems to ponder for a moment, silent and deep in thought. “Remember what I said about that last surprise?” He takes a deep breath. “I think I’m ready to give it now.”

Hyungwon laughs, almost all his thoughts that had lingered after looking at the photos flushed down the drain. “Oh my god. You and your surprises.”

“This one is different, I swear!” Minhyuk says, a furious blush dusting his cheeks and his ears. “And just so you know, you can run away if you want to. And never talk to me again. And forget any of this ever happened.”

“Now that’s just preposterous. Why would I ever want to do any of that?”

“Trust me, you will.” The other laughs nervously. “Just… please. Let me have this.”

Hyungwon has no idea what he’s talking about, but: “Sure…?”

“Alright,” Minhyuk exhales, closing his eyes. “ _Alright_. I can do this. I can do this!”

Hyungwon is pretty sure he hears a soft “ _man the fuck up, Minhyuk_ ” whispered hastily under the other’s breath, but he chooses not to mention it. He’d be damned if he didn’t admit that he found it kind of adorable.

When Minhyuk opens his eyes again, they are filled with determination. “Close your eyes.”

Hyungwon closes his eyes. “Okay...”

“Stick your hand out.”

Hyungwon holds out his hand, then promptly realizes the familiarity of the gestures he was doing. “Oh my _god_ , wait, this is another one of your coupons, isn’t it? You ass, what did I tell you about giving me cou—“

He doesn’t get to finish the thought, because suddenly there’s a familiar warmth that is definitely _not_ a piece of paper settling on his hand, and another more nervous but much _softer_ warmth settling over his lips.

Hyungwon feels a million things all at once. He feels the way Minhyuk’s lips tremble against his, unsure and hesitant, as if he was scared Hyungwon would pull away any second, or that Hyungwon wouldn’t be able to kiss him back. He feels the almost painful squeeze of Minhyuk’s hand on his, another clue as to how incredibly _nervous_ he was, it was endearing. He feels his heart explode into smithereens, and he feels all the butterflies flutter around in his stomach. He feels elated most of all, and he feels the unidentifiable emotion inside him bloom into something more.

He’s angry at himself for being so adamant about denying the fact that he has wanted to kiss Minhyuk for so long, because everything about this was so _good_ , it made him want to start sobbing out of nowhere.

It takes Hyungwon a few seconds to get out of his shell-shocked state, and a few more seconds to realize that he _hadn’t been kissing Minhyuk back._

He almost panics before he starts moving his lips against the other’s slowly, and judging from how he gasps, Minhyuk had not been expecting it at all. He brings a hand up to Minhyuk’s neck and strokes the skin around his choker gently, trying to ease the tension building up in that area before he moves to cup his cheek and rub the pad of his thumb across his cheekbone. Minhyuk sighs softly and practically _melts_ against him—it was too _cute_ , Hyungwon sort of, kind of wanted to cry.

Minhyuk’s lips were definitely softer than he could have ever imagined, it was almost impossible for him to want to pull away at all. He tasted like caramel syrup and apples, and Hyungwon concludes that maybe he wasn’t completely against sweet flavors anymore.

It’s over before he knows it, and he has to stop himself from pulling Minhyuk back. He heaves a sigh then opens his eyes, feeling as if he’s in a daze.

Minhyuk, on the other hand, seems far from calm. “Oh my god,” He whispers, eyes wide. He slowly brings a hand up to touch his lips disbelievingly. “Oh my _god_. I... I did it.”

“Yay.” _Now come back here and do it again!_

“And _you_...” He looks at Hyungwon, jaw dropped.

Hyungwon chuckles, slightly amused. “Are you always like this after you kiss someone?”

Minhyuk’s cheeks heat up at the word ‘kiss’. God, he was so _pure_ , how adorable. “I-I’ve only ever k-kissed my mom, so I don’t think so...”

All of Hyungwon’s systems halt to a stop. The Kill Bill sirens start blaring in his head, and he swears he can hear cars crash in the distance. “Wait— _I_ was your first kiss?” He yells.

“ _Shut up_ , I know it’s obvious!” Minhyuk groans, burying his face in his hands in utter shame.

“I mean...” Okay, maybe it _was_ obvious, but he thought it was perfect because it was Minhyuk he was kissing anyway. And he admits he liked being the one taking the lead, remembering the feeling of Minhyuk’s lips trembling nervously.

He hesitates too long. Minhyuk rubs his face in despair. “You can run away now. And never talk to me again. And forget that ever happened.”

Hyungwon almost throws a fit. Had Minhyuk even listened to him at all? And being negative was _his_ job! “Are you kidding? _No_ , I won’t do any of that, what the fuck!” He splutters, appalled, “I’ve been wanting to do this for _days_. You don’t get to say that!”

When Minhyuk’s head shoots up like a fucking _jack-in-the-box_ , eyes stupidly wide and jaw dropped, Hyungwon winces. “No.”

Minhyuk beams, and Hyungwon _swears_ he’s absorbed all the radiance of the sun because it’s brighter than ever. His eyes glisten, but there’s no trace of sadness in his demeanor.

“I w-wasn’t even going to do anything.” Minhyuk says weakly, obviously trying his best to hold back tears. His voice cracks near the end of the sentence.

“Please. I know that look on your face, you’re gonna keep gloating about it until—“ Hyungwon’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, are you _crying_?”

He realizes that that was probably the dumbest question he’s ever asked when Minhyuk’s smile falters and he lowers his head, tears falling onto his lap. He doesn’t know what to do other than stare stupidly as the boy next to him cries into his hands. (He makes a mental note to search up _how to comfort crying people_ on wikihow when he gets home.)

 _This is exactly why you’d make a shit boyfriend, Chae Hyungwon!_ He can hear Kihyun chastise in his head.

“W-wait, stop crying… please…” He says (panics). He looks around stupidly as if the proper way to comfort someone was flying in the air. “Was it what I said? I’m sorry, I was kidding—“

“No, no, it’s not that.” Minhyuk cries. He hiccups in the middle of his sentence. “I’m just… really happy. _Really_ , really happy. It’s so n- _nice_ to hear such a thing from someone you’ve admired for a long time.”

Hyungwon’s brain short circuits. He wants to talk about what Minhyuk said, but he fears that if he opens his mouth, his heart would speak for him instead and say things he wasn’t aware of. It wasn’t a good time for that to happen either, especially since the convention would be ending soon, and they’d go right back to being strangers.

Minhyuk hastily wipes his tears away, smiling widely, though what remains of it still shines where the sun kisses his cheeks. Hyungwon thinks it’s beautiful. “Ugh, I’m so lame. _Goodness_.”

The more he stares at Minhyuk’s smile, the more he wants to tell him what he’s been dying to tell him since he was exposed to it. His hands itch on top of his lap, and he almost pops a vein trying to resist the urge to just grab Minhyuk but he was doing so well, he wasn’t going to— _ah, you know what, screw it!_

He cups Minhyuk’s wet cheeks with both his hands, eyebrows furrowed and corners of his lips curved downward. The other gasps, and if it hadn’t been for his strong grip he would have jumped backwards.

“You insufferable fucking _idiot_.” Hyungwon seethes. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a pretty smile?”

Minhyuk wheezes as he stifles his laugh, both in surprise and confusion. His cheeks heat up underneath Hyungwon’s palms. “W-what?”

“You have a pretty smile!” Hyungwon exclaims aggressively. “And you’re the cutest damn person alive! No one deserves your kindness! I _hate_ your guts!”

Minhyuk grins. “Are you trying to insult me or compliment me? Because I honestly can’t—“

Hyungwon interrupts by insistently peppering kisses all over his face, something he was _definitely_ going to regret later. Minhyuk giggles, weakly trying to push Hyungwon off even though he so obviously liked the sudden show of affection. He pauses for a moment, hesitating, before he plants one last kiss on Minhyuk’s lips, this one longer than the rest.

He feels Minhyuk smile against his mouth, and it’s all suddenly too much for his heart. (Was he really willing to let this go?)

He pulls away after a few seconds, bumping his forehead against Minhyuk’s. “I took your second one too. Hope you’re fine with that.”

Minhyuk’s cheeks flush red. “You can take my third one as well, I don’t mind!” He then closes his eyes and puckers his lips, expectant. Hyungwon looks away.

“Ew, no. I’ve reached my limit.” _Save it for someone who’s actually going to stay._

Minhyuk peeks out of one eye, then pouts petulantly. “This Hyungwon is no fun. Give me back the one from thirty seconds ago.”

“He’s died.” Hyungwon replies bluntly.

Minhyuk snorts. “I seriously don’t know how you can reference memes with a straight face. It’s truly a feat.” He reaches for Hyungwon’s hand and squeezes it. “Anyway. Just so you know, Wonnie boy, you can take the rest of my kisses too.”

He winks at Hyungwon playfully then, and he swears he feels his heart stop beating in his chest.

They fall into pleasant silence, comfortable in each other’s presence. It’s almost _too_ perfect, and Hyungwon has the gut feeling it was merely the calm before the storm—but in the meantime, he was going to cherish it; he was going to remember the warmth the boy next to him was radiating, the tingling feeling in his hand as it held the other’s, the lingering taste of candied apples on his lips, and even the army of stuffed toys that rested by their feet.

He was never going to experience this again, so he might as well memorize the moment.

As Hyungwon watches the sun fall, he wonders why he ever thought the anime convention was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, when there was an entirely beautiful boy with the most serene smile sitting right next to him—the orange light of the falling sun washing over his face almost perfectly, with his hair and his white collared shirt softly billowing in the wind.

He looked calm and utterly beautiful, and Hyungwon had never been more in love.

… _Wait_.

Hyungwon’s jaw drops.

Was _that_ what it was? The unidentifiable feeling that’s been annoyingly sitting and stirring in his chest the whole damn week?

A _crush_ he had developed?

He smacks a hand on his forehead as he dwells in his stupidity.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

It _clicks_ all of a sudden. The heart palpitations he’s been experiencing every time Minhyuk directed a smile at him, the whooping of his stomach, the expression he had made in the photos, and the way he completely lost it earlier before giving in to his urges of wanting to kiss Minhyuk senseless—they _all_ added up, Hyungwon was just too dumb to realize it.

He peeks through his fingers at the boy next to him, who was happily oblivious to Hyungwon’s inner turmoil and was smiling softly, the wind and the dwindling sunlight passing through the tendrils of his hair almost _ethereally_. His heart rises up to his throat, leaving a ticklish feeling in his stomach that he unfortunately could now identify.

 _Oh my god_ , he thinks sullenly, laughing at himself disbelievingly, _did I_ really _just fall in love with the weeb?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you made it this far, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart <3
> 
> enjoy the happy moments while they last! c:


End file.
